


So She Dances

by princessrorora



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessrorora/pseuds/princessrorora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Raoul meets both Christine and Meg when they are children. Things don't go exactly the way you remember. What happens if instead, Raoul falls for Meg instead of Christine?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The night is calm. The night is cool.

The tiny village on the shore is silent, aside from the ocean's calming waves. Not a soul is stirring. Everyone is safe in their dreams.

All but one.

Little Marguerite Giry stands on the sand, staring out at the blackness of the ocean. Her lamp rests beside her bare feet, the only light in the night's darkness. Her arms are outstretched, her dark eyes closed tightly. The ocean breeze flops her golden curls and pale nightgown every which way. But she doesn't care.

In this moment, she feels free. Free to do whatever she pleases. The ocean air makes her feel clean, brand new. She assumed the ocean's waves would make her feel the same, but the poor girl couldn't swim to save her life. One day, she knew. She was young. A holiday to the shoreline with her dearest friend and mother should have been more thrilling for her. But at eleven, all Marguerite Giry felt was the constant teasing of the other girls of the town for not venturing out into the cool blue ocean.

A soft sigh escapes her as she finally drops her arms and lowers herself onto a large piece of driftwood. Her mother would kill her if she knew she was out here like this, in the middle of the night. Improper, she'd say. You'll catch your death, she'd scold. A small smile crossed her quivering pink lips at the thought. Only a few more moments and she would return to the cottage. It was close enough. Nothing ever happened in the little village. She was safe.

Marguerite took a deep breath and lifted her lamp as she got to her feet again. She blew the ocean a kiss, then giggled and gracefully made her way back home. Her shawl had slipped past her shoulders and now rested in the creases of her elbows. She hummed softly to herself as she tiptoed through the quiet village.

It surely wasn't safe for a young girl of her age to be wandering around in the dark like this. She should have been snug in her bed, dreaming away the night like the rest of the town. Anyone could be lurking in the shadows watching her. Anything could happen and no one would know. And with Marguerite's petite frame, she certainly couldn't fight any brute off. Still, Meg had faith that the Lord would keep her safe as she traveled the short distance.

And He always did. She made it to the small cottage easily. It was owned by her uncle's family, and they allowed Marguerite and her mother to come visit often. Their home wasn't terribly big, but it was cozy and just right for the young couple and their dog. Marguerite blew out her lamp and set it on the porch before creeping up the steps. Charlie, the big black dog, grumbled in his sleep. Marguerite paled, and instantly froze. He was a sweet dog, so thankfully if he woke there wouldn't be any trouble. Unless he barked his loud bark. Instead, he just rolled over on his bed, allowing Marguerite to sneak inside.

She quickly hung up her shawl and scurried through the dark house to the loft she was sharing with her mother. And Christine.

Christine Daae was just a year older than Marguerite. But the poor girl had seen so much in her young life. At age seven, her father had died of a terrible illness. He had been her whole world. He had guided her and taught her to sing. They had traveled all over Europe. Christine's father had been a rather famous violinist, and the two shared their love of music with whoever would listen.

Gustave Daae' had known Marguerite's mother for ages. He arranged for her to take Christine in as her own when he knew he was dying. He had no other family, and his wife's family hadn't spoken to them in years. Christine didn't have a mother as Marguerite did. In a way, she could understand. Marguerite hadn't ever known her father. She had been much too young when he passed away. All Marguerite had of him was a small photo and a large leather bound book of fairytales.

Christine stirred in her bed as Marguerite slipped into her own. Her mop of unruly mahogany curls shielded her slumbering face. Marguerite studied her for a moment, biting her lower lip nervously as her friend lifted her head.

"Meg?" Christine had given Marguerite that little nickname upon meeting her, insisting her full name was too hard to say. Not that Marguerite minded at all. She rather preferred Meg to her own name. It seemed too proper and uptight for her.

"Go back to sleep, Christine." Meg whispered.

"You went to the beach again, didn't you?"

Meg cringed. "Don't tell!"

"Of course not, my dear Meg. But you mustn't do it anymore. One of these times your Maman will catch you. Or worse, Charlie will think you're a burglar!"

"Quite right! I...I won't anymore, Christine."

"Good. I can't have anything happen to my best friend. I need you." Christine's voice grew soft, and Meg sat up to reach out and touch Christine's hand.

"Nothing will happen to me, Christine. We'll be best friends forever. Nothing will tear us apart."

"Promise?" Christine asked weakly.

"Promise." Meg smiled.

The next day, the girls had planned to play on the beach again. But upon rising, the weather seemed to have other plans. The sky was full of gray clouds, and the air was chilly and cold. Both girls had sat sadly in the loft, staring out the window at the chilly weather. The entire week they had been there, the air had been warm, the sky bright.

Christine thrived in the sunshine. Meg didn't mind either way, though she did prefer the rain. Just not on a holiday. But Christine seemed to need the sun's warm rays to function. Her smile was rare as it was. But in the sunshine, she practically glowed. Meg sighed and got up, taking her friend's hand and leading her downstairs. The two spent the rainy day with a stack of books and Charlie in Meg's uncle's study.

After lunch, a beam of sunshine began to push through the dark clouds. Meg and Christine begged Madame Giry to let them go out, even for a little while. The older woman just sighed and helped them bundle up after a good amount of begging. Whatever made them happy. After the holiday it would be back to the theater, back to dancing. Madame Giry knew that wasn't the best lifestyle for her girls, but she knew it would make them strong, make them talented. She had high hopes for them. She didn't know what else to do for them. Madame Giry was the ballet mistress, and not very rich. She couldn't afford any other lifestyle.

The two girls set off, mindful of the muddy roads. The sky was still gray, but the sun was still prominent. Christine was already smiling. She had a bright red scarf on that contrasted against her pale skin, and her bright blue eyes sparkled happily. Meg thought her friend never looked lovelier.

Meg wore her mother's shawl over her shoulders this time. It was warm and a pale shade of blue. Little lace patterns of flowers were sewn into the fabric, and it was the nicest thing Meg had ever seen. For her mother to allow her to wear this was a treat. She too felt lovely. Like Christine.

Once on the sand, Christine took off running up the crest. Meg laughed and followed as quickly as she could, her shawl slipping past her shoulders. The girls ran past an young boy and an older gentleman, but they were too busy giggling to really notice.

But the boy certainly noticed the girls.

Christine made it up the crest first, Meg close behind. Her fingers loosened around the shawl as she ran up the slight incline overlooking the water. Both girls giggled breathlessly, the sunlight growing more and the gray clouds beginning to disappear. Though the cold breeze kept up, neither Christine or Meg were very cold. The run had gotten the blood flowing, their hearts pounding. They were plenty warm.

"Oh, sunshine! How I could sing so many songs to you, telling you of my love for you! None would be enough!" Christine laughed, throwing her arms up into the air.

Meg couldn't help but laugh along, throwing her arms up as well. But when she did, her mother's precious shawl flew off of her, and down into the crashing waves. She shrieked, her small hands lifting to her pouting lips. "Oh, Christine!" Meg cried. "No! Maman will be furious!"

Christine wrapped her arm around Meg. "No, Meg, no. Everything will be fine. It was an accident, simply an accident."

Meg watched the waves sift the beautiful blue fabric around. It was growing heavier, and it began to sink. Hot tears filled Meg's eyes as she watched it begin to disappear.

A shouting from the shore caught the girls' attention, and they looked over quickly to see the older gentleman that had been standing there was calling out to someone in the water. The young boy they had passed was no longer there. Meg studied the older gentleman, taking in his stylish and sophisticated clothes. So he was an aristocrat. Wasn't it not very aristocratic to yell as he was?

"Oh, a boy!" Christine cried. "Look, Meg, look! He'll catch his death! That water must be freezing!"

Meg looked where Christine pointed out into the water. Indeed, the boy was swimming towards where her shawl had fallen. Meg gasped, rubbing her teary brown eyes as she watched him dive down. She held her breath as they waited. It seemed like forever until he burst out of the water, a familiar piece of fabric in his fist.

He had saved her shawl! Meg hurried down the crest, with Christine following close behind. He swam forward, and Meg reached her hands out to the boy as he crawled up onto the sand. His hair was sopping and clung to his forehead, but his eyes were the deepest and darkest shade of blue. Meg almost forgot to breathe from the sight of such eyes.

"H-here, m-m-miss." He stammered, his teeth chattering as he offered her the shawl. It dripped heavy saltwater tears all over the sand, and Meg reached out and took the familiar fabric.

"Thank you." She murmured. "You silly boy, why did you do that?"

"Y-you were so v-very upset a-a-and sad. I wanted y-you to smile again." He managed to stammer out.

Meg couldn't help but smile as she stepped closer. "It is much appreciated. Thank you, kind sir." She gave a little curtsy before leaning in and kissing his cheek. His skin was cold and wet, but Meg didn't mind one bit. No boy had ever paid her much attention before. When she had pulled away, he had the biggest smile on his face. It made Meg blush, and she looked away shyly.

"What's your n-names?" He asked, finally lifting his eyes to look at Christine.

"I'm Christine." Christine offered softly, rather amused by the whole scene before her. "And this is Marguerite."

Meg blushed bright red, and she shook her golden head of curls. "Meg. I'm Meg."

"Pleasure t-t-to meet you b-both." He was shivering quite roughly now, and though his smile was bright, Meg still furrowed her eyebrows together in worry.

"And yours?" Meg asked with a warm smile.

"Vicomte Raoul de Chagny." An older, masculine voice said impatiently. "My dear brother, always getting into trouble." He rested a heavy coat around the boy's shoulders, and patted his shoulder. "Come along, Raoul. You've done your valiant act for the day. Let's get you cleaned up. Excuse us, mademoiselles."

"Perhaps we'll s-s-see each other again s-soon." Raoul grinned at the girls as he was ushered away.

"Under dryer circumstances, I hope." The older man chuckled.

"Yes, of course Philippe."

Meg tore her gaze away from the departing pair to look down at the cherished blue shawl in her hands. It would need a good washing and drying to be restored to how it once was. Madame Giry would have been so very upset if Meg had lost it. She had trusted her daughter with one of her best possessions and Meg would have never forgiven herself if it was gone forever. And this boy had saved it.

The Vicomte de Chagny had saved it for her.


	2. Chapter Two

When the girls returned to the little cottage, Christine couldn't wait to tell Madame Giry the story. She thought it was awfully romantic, though Meg just stuttered and blushed over how the young Vicomte was only being chivalrous. Christine just giggled and described everything to Madame Giry perfectly. She left out Meg's favorite parts though. Like how soft his cheek had felt when she kissed it, or how deep and blue his eyes were, or how sweet and warm his smile was.

Madame Giry only nodded and smiled as she took the shawl and tended to it. She knew the girls were growing up. They were lovely, and only seemed to grow lovelier every day. Still, it made her nervous to think of her little Marguerite becoming involved with boys. And Christine for that matter. Still, she supposed girlish crushes were allowed. And they would leave by the end of the week anyways. The girls would probably forget all about the boy who had saved the shawl.

Meg and Christine went to the beach every single day for the rest of the trip. And every day, the same faces were there also. No Vicomte, or the man who had been with him. Christine seemed more upset about it than Meg was. The brunette must have also fancied the boy as well. That bothered Meg, and she felt silly for even being bothered by it.

On one of their last days, they went to the beach again with Madame Giry and Charlie. Meg held tight to Charlie's leash, practically running to keep up with the big puppy. Christine walked alongside Madame Giry, drinking in the sun's rays. It was the loveliest day of the entire holiday. The sky was bright blue and clear, the air warm with a gentle breeze. Perfect weather for Christine.

Meg was more focused on not letting go of Charlie more than anything. They beat Madame Giry and Christine down to the sand, and Charlie began to sniff around a family's picnic basket almost instantly. "No, Charlie!" Meg scolded, pulling his leash to guide him away. She sent the family an apologetic smile before Charlie began to tug her elsewhere. Madame Giry and Christine finally made it to the sand and laid out a blanket to sit upon. They watched with amused expressions as Meg was pulled in all different directions by the big dog.

"Oh Charlie, behave!" Meg said angrily as the dog pulled her along.

"Do you need some help?" A voice laughed nearby.

Meg tore her gaze away from the dog to look towards the owner of the voice. Her dark eyes widened as she realized that it was the boy! It was Raoul! His hair was dry and blowing every which way from the ocean breeze. It was the lightest, warmest shade of brown Meg had ever seen. His blue eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight, and he was every bit casual as he stood before her. Meg's fingers slipped away from Charlie's leash, and he took off quickly. Meg stumbled, yelping as she fell in the sand.

"Stupid dog." She grumbled as she pushed herself back up. Warm fingers curled around her elbow, helping her rise to her feet. She blushed a deeper shade of red, feeling like a fool.

"Hi." Raoul grinned, his hand remaining on her arm.

Meg gaped at him, her dark eyes scanning his face. "H-hi." She mumbled as she shyly pulled her arm from his grasp.

"I didn't think I'd get to see you again." He beamed.

"Oh...um..." Meg couldn't believe she couldn't find her words. She could be quiet, but she was definitely more outspoken than most girls, including Christine. Why was this boy so special? Meg didn't know. She shook her head a little. "I honestly...didn't-"

A gasp escaped her as she saw Charlie bounding down the shoreline after a flock of seagulls. "Oh, no!" She cried, watching in horror as he knocked over a little boy in his flight into the crashing waves. "No, Charlie!" She yelled angrily, running past Raoul to attempt to wrangle in the stupid dog. She stopped short at the edge of the water, glancing over her shoulder at her mother.

"Marguerite, don't you go in that water!" Madame Giry cried.

Meg groaned and kicked her shoes off along with her stockings, blatantly ignoring her mother. She slipped her petticoats out from under her dress before stepping into the waves after Charlie. It was exhilerating to be in the water like this, though she knew if she went much further she'd probably sink like a stone.

Charlie was riding the waves like he was a fish, his tail wagging out of the water. When he spotted her coming towards him, he thought she was playing with him, and began to run in and out of the water. He barked happily at Meg as she chased after him. "Charlie, please!" She groaned, knowing she probably looked insane to the other beachgoers. She nervously darted in and out of the water, her dress and curls becoming soaked with every splash of the waves.

Her gown was soaked and heavy, making it harder for her to chase after the dog. But she kept going. Her fingers reached for the rope that dragged in the sand, but he was too far ahead. Charlie bounded back into the water again, and Meg followed, despite her mother's shouts to stop. The dog barked as a hand closed around his collar, tugging him out.

"There now, calm yourself, dog!" Raoul scolded. Meg widened her eyes, gasping a little as a cold wave pushed against her small frame. She felt like she was being pulled out, past where her feet could touch the sand. Raoul looked towards her with wide blue eyes, then reached one hand out to her, still holding Charlie's collar. Meg reached for him, but another wave came and pulled her out a little further. She cried out, attempting to kick her legs and arms, trying to keep her head above the water.

Raoul hurried out of the water and handed the leash over to Madame Giry, who kept a tense grip on it.

"Meg! Come, hurry!" Christine yelled. "Oh, oh dear. She cannot swim!" She said quickly, grasping Raoul's sleeve. Raoul looked up at Madame Giry anxiously before hurrying back out into the water. He swam towards Meg, his hands circling around her waist as a wave crashed down over them. He kept a firm grasp on her as they tumbled around under the water. As soon as the water calmed for the shortest of moments, he pulled her up above into the cool air.

Meg coughed and spit up water, her hands encircling Raoul's neck. She kept a tight grasp on him, but it didn't seem to bother him. They made it to shore easily, where Meg continued to cough and sniffle on the sand.

"Stupid dog." Madame Giry muttered to Charlie. "Child, are you alright?"

"Yes...yes, Mama." Meg muttered, her small hand reaching for the wet dog. She patted his head and gave him a roll of her eyes before looking towards Raoul. "T-thank you. You saved my life."

"It was worth saving." Raoul grinned. "I suppose we'll have to give you some swimming lessons, won't we?"

Meg blushed, nodding her head slowly. Christine stepped in and covered Meg with their blanket. Meg hadn't realized she was shivering. And besides that, she was hardly decent now. "We should get you home, Meg. You ought to get dry and warm." Christine murmured. Meg nodded slowly, allowing her friend to help her to her feet.

"I don't suppose we'll ever have a real encounter, hm?" Raoul said, his blue gaze flickering between the girls. They both giggled, glancing at Madame Giry's watchful gaze. "I'll see you next time I save you." He teased.

Meg giggled and shook her head. Before she could respond, Madame Giry spoke up. "Perhaps the young Vicomte would like to join us for lunch."

\----------------

The young Vicomte did indeed want to. Christine and Meg laughed with him the entire walk back to the little cottage. His presence was like having a permanent sunbeam with them. He was easy to get along with, and had a lovely sense of humor. Upon arriving to the cottage, Meg's uncle tied Charlie up on the porch and scolded him for all the trouble he put Meg through. He made them a special lunch of cheese sandwiches and treated them with little strawberry cakes. Raoul seemed very much at ease with them. Not at all snobby or disgusted by the little home. Meg thought aristocratic families were all the same. The ones they had encountered at the Opera House were always beautiful, but they always had their noses in the air as if they were better than anyone else.

But not Raoul. He was wonderful. Once Meg had changed and they ate together, the three children played in the yard. Charlie sat on the porch, watching them enviously. But they paid the troublemaker no mind. They played hiding games and tossed a ball around the yard. They conversed about silly things and told each other stories as they stared up at the clouds. The girls learned much about him, and his life. They drank in every story with wide eyed fascination and interest.

Raoul was fourteen years old. He had an older brother, Philippe, and two older sisters who were not on holiday with the brothers. His father was an old man, and he had no mother. He liked ships and the ocean and hoped to one day be in the Navy. The girls found it all to be very exciting.

Raoul showed no favoritism to either girls. He made sure they both had an equal amount of his attention. But Meg caught his blue gaze on her more times than she could count. It made her feel warm, and she knew her face was a bright shade of pink. Christine didn't really notice, though it was obvious she fancied Raoul. The girls hadn't had much contact with boys, unless they were the older men in the Opera. Most of them didn't pay them or the other ballet rats much notice. So spending time with a boy their age was rare. Of course they would be silly and girlish with the situation.

Raoul joined them everyday for the rest of their holiday. Which was pretty much only two more days, but he spent every moment with them. He would take walks with the girls or join them at the beach or at the cottage. They would read to each other and laugh with each other and simply enjoy each other's company. They were the best of friends, and during that time they were hardly seen without each other.

On their last day together, the mood wasn't as joyous and sunny as it had been. The girls were sad to have to say goodbye to Raoul. Christine had shared with Meg that she hoped one day they would all reuinte again, that maybe he lived in Paris like they did. While it was possible he did live there, Meg knew it wouldn't be good for their friendship to continue at home. Christine and Meg were ballet rats in the Opera House. It wouldn't be right for the Vicomte de Chagny to be seen with them. As much as Meg had gotten attached to him, she knew nothing could come out of it. She was realistic in that aspect. But she tried not to let it bother her.

Christine and Meg had a beautiful day with Raoul. He brought them fancy treats and promised to write to them. He thought it was fascinating that they lived and danced in the Opera House. He found it rather mesmerizing and always loved their stories from the theater. Meg and Christine sat outside under the large willow tree with Raoul and the treats he had brought them, telling him a particularly funny story of the new stagehand called Bouquet. They all laughed until their sides hurt, simply enjoying each others company.

"Poor Bouquet. I am sure the Ghost will have some fun with him." Meg laughed.

"The Ghost?" Raoul asked curiously. "The Opera House has a ghost? How wonderful!"

Christine rolled her eyes. "I don't believe any of that for a moment."

Meg scoffed. "Lies! Monsieur Lefèvre, our manager, placed the Duke and his wife into Box 5, they had quite the story to tell! You couldn't stay in your own bed for days!" Meg giggled, shaking her head.

"Box 5?" Raoul questioned.

"It's the Phantom's box. Monsieur Lefèvre should have known better than to fill that seat."

"It's the best view of the stage. You can see everything there." Christine explained.

"Well, what on earth happened?" Raoul asked with a grin.

"No one really knows what, exactly. All anyone knows is that the Phantom was not pleased his seat was taken. He scared them so badly that they ran out screaming!" Meg exclaimed.

"Perhaps the Duchess saw a spider. I'd make a scene too if I saw one too big." Christine pouted her lips, and Raoul touched her arm gently.

"You mustn't worry about spiders, Little Lotte." He said softly. Meg sighed at that. She had come across Raoul and Christine reading in her uncle's study one afternoon, curled up with one of Christine's old books. Meg knew it was special to Christine, that her father had given it to her like Meg had been given a book from her father. Both men must have been old souls to leave behind heavy leather books for their girls rather than dolls. Not that either girl would have wanted the latter. But Meg knew the story they had been reading well. Too well. Raoul had fancied the main character's name, and since her description matched Christine perfectly, he took to calling her that.

It was the only thing that bothered Meg. But she tried not to let it bother her. Not today, when they only had so little time left.

"You're so kind, Raoul." Christine murmured, placing her hand upon Raoul's.

Meg looked down at her lap, feeling like she was intruding on a special moment. She bit her lower lip and tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear. Charlie barked at them from the porch, and the moment between Raoul and Christine broke. Meg lifted her dark eyes, smiling a little.

"You two must promise to be safe, hm? Wouldn't want to read about you two disappearing for teasing the Phantom." Raoul teased.

"We promise." Christine giggled.

\-------------------------------

That night, Meg snuck out again. She knew she had promised Christine she wouldn't anymore, and she hadn't. But they would return home in the morning, and she only wanted time to herself again. At least before she had to return to the business of the Opera House. The ocean was calming, cleansing. So she wrapped herself up in her mother's shawl again and grabbed the lamp off the nightstand and set off. The town was quiet and dark, but she feared nothing. Meg wasn't afraid of the dark. She knew she was safe so long as the lamp remained lit and she could see.

At the beach, Meg sat down on her log and dug her toes into the sand. She set her lamp down on the ground and closed her eyes as the cold ocean breeze blew her golden curls every which way. She liked the feeling of the wind in her hair. A soft sigh escaped her as she hugged her shawl tightly around herself, enjoying the sound of the crashing waves and salty scent.

When she opened her eyes, Meg realized she was standing, her arms outstretched. She giggled to herself, shaking her head as she began to twirl around the sand. Her feet moved gracefully across the sand, and she felt as if she was floating on air. Meg hummed to herself as she did so, her mother's blue shawl curled around her fingers in a secure grasp.

As she spun around, warm hands circled around her wrists. Meg squeaked and whirled around, a scream beginning to form in her throat. A hand covered her lips and she nearly shrieked.

"Meg, Meg! It's me, it's Raoul!"

Her dark eyes opened, and she sighed as his hand moved from her lips. He gave her a grin, scanning her face with his bright blue eyes. She frowned at him, reaching a small hand out to swat at his arm a few times. "Raoul de Chagny you scared me half to death! You do not just sneak up on a girl like that! You really must break that habit!"

"Oh Meg, please forgive me. Truly, I am so sorry I scared you." He clasped her small hand in his, and she couldn't help but let out a little giggle.

"Fine. I forgive you. Just never do it again, alright?"

"I don't know how I ever could." He grew solemn, shaking his head. "Do you and Christine really have to leave tomorrow?"

"Yes, we must. Mama is needed in the Opera House." She sighed sadly.

Raoul simply nodded, his fingers slowly releasing Meg's. She hugged her mother's shawl back around herself, realizing she was only in her nightgown. She blushed, shaking her head a little as she sat back down on the log.

"You're a very talented dancer, Meg." Raoul said as he sat with her.

"Oh goodness, no. I'm nothing special." Meg was thankful for the dim light. Her pale face must have been bright red in that moment.

"Nonsense. I bet one day you'll be the star ballerina! Or whatever they are called." He laughed.

"A prima ballerina." She corrected, sending him a sheepish smile. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe." She murmured, shaking her head.

The pair sat silently for a moment, the wind blowing over them. Meg was still unsure as to how he even came across her, what he was doing out here. But she didn't care one bit. She was so happy to be alone with Raoul for once. Meg adored Christine and didn't mind sharing the attention. But she did like having Raoul to herself.

Meg bit her lower lip, out of habit, and let her dark eyes flicker over to Raoul. She hadn't realized how much she would miss him. They had only been friends for a little while, but she had never had a better friend, save for Christine. When they all had said goodbye earlier in the day, she hadn't felt much. It hadn't hit her. Now, she just studied him, realizing how sad she was that she might not ever see him again. His fingers flexed against his leg, and she quickly looked away, towards the water.

Raoul glanced at Meg this time, watching her as she adjusted her mother's shawl around herself and stared out at the ocean. She was so lovely. Her skin was so fair and her hair so curly and yellow. Her eyes were so dark, so full of emotion. Emotion he had an urge to learn of. Her eyes were what had stood out to him that fateful day he saved the shawl from the ocean. The very shawl she wore now. He had learned so much of the small blonde, and yet there was more he wanted to know. His heart ached knowing she would be gone the next day. He was smart for his young age. He knew the world of aristocracy would never allow he and Meg to be friends, or Christine for that matter.

Her dark lashes fluttered, and she suddenly looked over at Raoul. Both children blushed and let out nervous laughter.

"What were you...I mean...how did you know..." She blushed again, shaking her head. "I suppose I mean, what are you doing out here?" She finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Well...I remembered Christine telling me once you came out here before. She made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone, especially you." He chuckled. "But I thought, maybe by some chance I'd get to see you out here. I was going to give up, but I thought perhaps you'd be here tonight."

"What do you mean? Did...did you come here every night?" She asked curiously.

"Yes." He mumbled, smoothing his hands together nervously.

"To see me?" She felt butterflies fill her stomach.

"W-well yes. I thought perhaps any extra time with you...or Christine...might be nice." He murmured.

Meg's heart sank a little. Of course. Christine. She managed a little smile, nodding slowly. "Well, I'm really not supposed to be out here..." She sighed. "I'd better go before anyone realizes I'm gone." She was standing a little quicker than she realized, her shawl slumping down her shoulders.

"Oh Meg, must you go?" Raoul stood quickly, lifting his hands to fix the shawl over her shoulders.

Her dark eyes lifted, and she bit her lower lip again. Slowly, she nodded. "Goodbye, Raoul."

Raoul stared at her desperately, blue eyes shining in the dim lamplight. "Until we meet again, dear Meg." Before she realized what was happening, his arms reached out and wound around her tightly. No boy had ever held her before. But she found herself lifting her arms and hugging him back. If her mother had seen this, she would have frowned upon it. When Raoul had said goodbye to Meg and Christine earlier in the day, he had politely kissed their fingers and was off.

Meg leaned against him, his tall frame keeping her tiny one shielded from the cool wind. He held her securely for a moment. It was long enough for Meg to listen to his heartbeat, to close her eyes and memorize the feeling of his strong form and scent. When he released her, Meg wobbled a little, blushing as she looked up at him. Her shawl nearly slipped from her grasp, but he reached out and wrapped it around her tightly.

"Wouldn't want to lose that again. You ought to be careful with it, Meg. I may not be there next time you drop it." He warned in a light tone.

Meg smiled, forcing herself not to burst into tears right then and there. "I will."

"Will you be alright? Will you make it home alright?" He asked, his fingers slipping from her arms.

"Yes, yes. I'll be fine, Raoul." She murmured, lowering her dark eyes as she reached for her lantern. She caught one last look at him before turning and stepping away. She walked up the crest before turning to look back at his figure on the dark beach. The moon glowed, just enough now so when he turned around, she caught his reassuring smile.

"Perhaps I'll write to you." She called out.

"I'd like that very much, Meg!"

And with that, Meg turned away with an aching heart and headed back to the cottage, with no real intention of writing the young Vicomte.


	3. Chapter Three

Nothing had changed upon returning to the Opera House. It was as if Madame Giry and the girls had never left. Everyone was in as big of a flurry about the new production of some new opera as they had been before. Christine and Meg fell back into rehearsals upon arriving home, almost as if they had never been on holiday. They missed the quiet little town by the sea, the little cottage and the freedom they felt there. They missed Raoul especially.

Meg knew if she wrote to the young Vicomte, something would happen. She would let herself get attached and her heart would become hopeful. She knew if she wrote to him and they began to correspond, that things would get too hard for either of them to handle. He would have to choose between her or his family and title and lifestyle. She wasn't going to do that.

She was just little Marguerite Giry.

Nothing truly special.

Just a ballerina.

And he a Vicomte.

\-----

Christine began disappearing at night. She didn't think Meg noticed, but she did. Meg found it harder to fall asleep most nights. Her mind was full of memories of the Vicomte. She would toss about in bed for a long while before finally settling. Just before she could fall asleep though, she would see Christine slip out of the bed next to hers. Meg would try and be as still as possible as she watched her friend wrap herself up in her coat and slip out of the ballet dormitory.

The Opera House wasn't exactly safe at night. The stagehands would often stay late after a show or rehearsal and drink together. Often times they would stalk the dark halls of the grand theater in hopes of finding some fun. They loved telling the ballet rats ghost stories, to make them fear the Opera Ghost. Even if he wasn't real, Meg didn't like to think of her best friend slipping out on her own.

So one night, after Christine had escaped, Meg got up and wrapped herself in her shawl and followed her. Her mother decided to save her special blue shawl for Meg for when she was older. So Meg was stuck with her plain white one. No memories were involved in it, and she decided it was better to just pretend nothing had ever happened. Time would go on, and they would forget all about what had happened on the beach.

Meg followed Christine from a safe distance, feeling a little uneasy to be walking the dark halls without a candle of her own. Christine had one, but it was so dim. But she seemed to move through the darkness easily, as if it was perfectly mapped out in her mind. Meg could tell the poor girl was shaking, and she kept whispering to herself as she moved about. But Meg remained silent, her graceful feet moving silently behind her friend.

Soon enough, the petite brunette slipped down a familiar hall and into the small chapel the Opera House had. Meg hesitated, standing in the darkness as the light of Christine began to disappear down the curve into the chapel. Had she just been coming to light a candle for her father at night? That was it? Meg didn't want to intrude on Christine's time alone. Still, she stepped closer to the doorway, bending slightly to peek down the stairs at her friend.

Indeed, she was kneeling on the ground, lighting the candle above her father's picture. Christine had seemed to calm. She was no longer trembling, and she seemed to breathe easier. Soon, she ducked her head of dark curls and began to pray quietly. Meg sighed and slowly got to her feet. So long as Christine was alright. Meg didn't know what to really think when she saw Christine slipping out so often. Sighing, she turned away and began to feel her way through the darkness.

"Good evening, Christine."

Meg stopped short, her breathing hitching in her throat. That voice. What a voice! It was so beautiful. Meg turned and quietly stepped down the stairs to peek in the chapel again. Christine lifted her head, a serene smile crossing her lips as she lifted her hands.

"Hello, maestro."

Meg furrowed her eyebrows, her dark eyes searching the room. The chapel was tiny, so Christine's candle illuminated the majority of it. There was no one there. Absolutely no one. When the voice spoke again to Christine, Meg held back a gasp. Never had she heard something so beautiful. The expression on Christine's face was not frightened by a mysterious voice in the darkness. She seemed so...so at home.

Meg lowered herself down onto the step and leaned against the wall as she listened. She just had to be sure her best friend was okay. That was definitely a masculine voice. Meg didn't want her friend to be hurt. Yet she seemed so familiar with this mysterious man. Meg heard the rustling of Christine's nightgown, and then suddenly, she began to sing! Meg widened her dark eyes, listening as she began to go through familiar scales. Then her voice began lifting, going higher and higher. It was a little sharp, and definitely needed improvement. Christine always had a very sweet voice in the chorus. But Meg could hear something so much more in her voice in that moment.

Christine's voice cracked, and she stopped. "Forgive me, maestro." She quickly stammered.

"Try again."

She did, this time, reaching the note she had been attempting to achieve. Meg peeked around and saw a satisfied smile on Christine's face.

"Better. You must relax, Christine. You must focus on the music. Feel it." The voice instructed.

"Yes, Angel."

Meg slunk back against the steps, furrowing her eyebrows together again. Angel? Meg had assumed this mysterious voice was a singing teacher of sorts. But an angel? Meg didn't think things like that were possible. She perked up in realization. The Angel of Music. Christine's storybook told of the Angel of Music coming to Little Lotte. It seemed so very appropriate that Raoul had once called Christine Little Lotte. She truly was her, if this mysterious voice really was an angelic being.

Meg didn't realize she sat on the staircase for the entire lesson. She closed her eyes, just listening to Christine sing. At times, the voice, or rather the angel, would be harsh with her in his instructions. It seemed to scare Christine, but she kept going, fixing the problems she was having almost immediately.

"You did well tonight, Christine. Now you must rest. That is all for tonight." He murmured.

"Oh Angel, won't you sing to me? Please?" She begged in a soft voice.

"Christine, it is very late."

"But you must, please! One song, that's all I ask."

The angel sighed. Meg was certain with a voice as wonderful as his, he had to have been an angel. Perhaps he looked the part as well! "You know I can never deny you anything." Christine perked up and sat up straighter, waiting patiently. When he began to sing, Meg froze. Yes, he truly was an angel. The Angel of Music. Meg believed now. There was nothing she had ever heard that was to be compared to this voice. Meg began to weep quietly from the sheer beauty of it. How was it even possible for something to sound so lovely?

When the song was through, Meg could have cried harder. She nearly applauded him, but it would give her away. As if her sobs wouldn't.

"One more?" Christine whispered. Meg could tell by her sniffles that she too was crying.

"No, Christine. That is all for tonight. Goodnight."

"Goodnight! Oh...thank you." She whispered. Christine composed herself and picked up her candle. She hesitantly got to her feet, her bright blue eyes searching the small room for any sign of her Angel. Perhaps he could come and be real. For her. Oh how beautiful he must be! Perhaps that was why she never saw him. Perhaps he was truly too beautiful for her human eyes. Christine sighed and turned to walk up the steps when she came upon the weeping Meg.

"Oh Meg! W-what on earth are you doing here? Have you been here long?" Christine stammered, her hands beginning to shake again.

Meg stood up and wiped at her eyes, sniffling softly. "Oh Christine, Christine! Your angel is real!" Meg whimpered. "You should have told me, Christine. I was so worried about you." Christine set the candle down and hugged her small friend.

"I'm sorry, Meg. I'm sorry. You mustn't tell a soul, okay? You must promise me." She pulled back and held her pinky out. Meg instantly curled her own around Christine's, nodding quickly.

"I promise!"

\----------------

And Meg never told. Every night, Christine would slip out as soon as all the other girls were fast asleep. Most of the time, Meg would be awake and would wave her off. As they grew older, Meg began to wonder if it really was possible for it to be an angel truly teaching Christine. But every night, Christine would come back safely. It soon just became something so natural. Meg would sit up with Christine, then Christine would slip away and Meg would fall asleep until Christine came back.

She never spoke of the lessons. Christine never went into detail about anything. The changes in her voice were obvious to Meg though. She wasn't meant to be a chorus girl. Meg knew her father would be proud. If this voice Christine learned from truly was an angel, perhaps he could show Christine's father all he's taught her. Meg didn't know how those things really worked.

Madame Giry knew about the lessons. Meg remembered when she woke in the night as Christine came back, to find her mother personally escorting Christine to her bed. Meg had expected a good tongue lashing from her mother the next day, but it never came. There was no scoldings, no discussions. She just allowed them to happen. Madame Giry was full of secrets. She and Meg always had an understanding about the hidden things of Madame Giry's heart. Meg never questioned her mother. She trusted her more than anyone in her life, besides Christine of course. If her mother approved of the lessons, who was Meg to complain?

Six years had passed since the trip to the beach. Christine's lessons continued, and life went on in the Opera House. Meg became one of the most talented dancers in the corps, and she hoped one day she truly could become the prima ballerina. She grew in strength and beauty with each day.

The little ballerina never wrote the Vicomte de Chagny. Sort of. She wrote to him every single day, but she never found the courage to send them. She knew finding his address would be easy, seeing as he was an aristocrat, and highly recognized in Paris. But she couldn't. She knew the moment she did, he would enthusiastically try to contact her, to see her and Christine again. And Meg couldn't handle that. It wouldn't be right for him to be her friend, or Christine's. Christine never showed any interest in writing to Raoul, what with being so caught up in her lessons and daily life in the Opera House. Raoul wouldn't even recognize him.

Of course, he probably forgot all about the girls and the house by the sea. He probably wouldn't even recognize them.

Christine had grown into a beautiful young lady of eighteen, and was tall and lithe. Her hair had grown a darker shade of brown, and curled elegantly down to her waist. It no longer frizzed or became terribly unruly. Her blue eyes shone brighter with each passing day, and her demeanor was one of an elegant young lady. She enjoyed laughing and fussing with Meg and the other ballet rats. But she knew when to be calm, when to have quiet moments.

Meg was still small in height and build at age seventeen, but her body had filled out with lovely womanly curves. Her curls seemed to be made of pure gold, and they fell down to her waist as well. Her lashes grew longer and darker, her lips also becoming fuller. With her extensive ballet training, she was fit and walked with a grace that made her stand out from the rest of the ballerinas. She would often become too excited or frightened at times, and would let out silly shrieks or giggles if the situation called for it.

Meg found too much pleasure in telling the younger ballet rats ghost stories of the Opera Ghost. They would all shriek and giggle and then run around the Opera House attempting to find him. It would always end with Madame Giry scolding the girls, and ultimately, Meg. She couldn't help it. As innocent and shy as she was, she was a bit of a troublemaker also. Even if the Phantom was just a few stagehands trying to scare everyone and not a real specter, it still was funny to see how the girls would respond.

Christine never spoke of her angel, and soon enough, it wasn't a main priority for Meg to know. Christine hardly sang for Meg, but when she did, it seemed to sound more beautiful each time. Meg knew her best friend was talented. She also knew La Carlotta, the Opera's leading soprano for five seasons was also talented. But Christine deserved the spotlight for once. She deserved to shine. Meg hoped her day would come. All she wanted was for her best friend to sparkle, to show the world that hardships could be overcome and something beautiful could come from it. Meg knew Christine's father would have wanted that for her also.

Someday, the girls would have their chances.

Sooner than they realized.


	4. Chapter Four

It was early when the Vicomte de Chagny rose from his bed. Much earlier than he was needing to be up. The sun hadn't even lifted to warm the earth yet. And yet he was wide awake, pacing his bedroom back and forth. It was a large room, and he did many laps. Eventually his legs began to tire and he found himself sitting on his bed, large hands resting on his knees. Today was an important day. It was something he would never get out of doing. He owed it to his father to make this one visit. His father, the Comte, had a full day of appointments and work to do. His brother would be shadowing their father. And of course, Raoul's two sisters would never do this job.

No, it was a job that had landed on the Vicomte's shoulders.

"All you must do is go to the Opera House, speak with the managers and establish yourself as the patron. Nothing difficult at all, Raoul. Don't be a fool." He muttered to himself. It was the same mantra he had been muttering for hours. And yet he still couldn't truly believe his own words.

Raoul was merely twenty years old, and was soon to be twenty one in three months time. It was his duty to do something like this. It was absolutely simple considering the things he had done before. When he had joined the Navy as sixteen, he had been on a boat with many smelly young men for months at a time. He had been strong, and done hard work. True, he had come back to his pampered lifestyle happily. But he had definitely learned to take care of himself, to realize there was more to life than this. He had taken on his responsibilities as the Vicomte as soon as he had come back just a year ago.

So why on earth was he so nervous for today?

"You fool, you know why." Raoul answered his own question, raking his fingers through his short brown hair for the millionth time that morning.

A girl. A silly little girl.

A girl who may not even be there any longer. Perhaps she was happy, gone away and married. Perhaps she was perfectly happy and never thought of the boy who saved her shawl. Raoul didn't know which would be harder to face. Actually seeing her or knowing she truly had forgotten him and was married and happy.

Because he had never forgotten her.

Or Christine for that matter.

But Meg especially. She had promised to write him. Six years had gone past and not a single letter. He should have just brushed it off, forgotten all about it. But he never did. There was something about those beautiful brown eyes of hers that had drawn him in. Even at fourteen he had wanted to know every last detail about her. He had wanted to simply let her talk and he could watch the changes her faces made. If he closed his eyes he could still see her clearly, hear her voice, see her dimpled smile.

"Stop it, you idiot." Raoul growled at himself.

And this loop went on and on for two more hours. Eventually he needed to shave and dress himself for his appointment. He kept telling himself that she wouldn't be there, neither would Christine. He mumbled it to himself all morning. Even when he sat down for breakfast with his family, he would mumble it under his breath. His stomach was too knotted and nervous to handle anything but a few bites of egg and large gulps of black coffee. The coffee only made him more nervous, more jittery.

No one really noticed his troubles, and he was thankful. His sisters were chattering on about some form of gossip, while Philippe and the Comte, William de Chagny, discussed the days events. When Raoul rose to leave, they merely wished him good luck and sent him off. Raoul road his carriage in silence to the theater, squeezing his gloves in a tight, nervous fashion.

It was a long ride into the city.

Much too long for one to be alone with one's thoughts.

\------------

Meg too had been up for too long of a time. But most certainly not for the reasons the Vicomte had been. Had she known he was to be arriving at the Opera House in a mere matter or hours, she would have been feeling just the same. Her reasons were much different.

Madame Giry had woken the ballet girls for an early morning rehearsal. The newest opera called, Hannibal, would be debuting that evening. Everything had to be absolutely perfect. The finest of Paris would be in the audience that night. There was no room for mistakes. So the girls were up bright and early to run through the dances over and over again. Despite being used to it, they all still grumbled and complained over it. Madame Giry only made the dancing last longer.

After breakfast, the girls changed into their outfits made of beautiful bolts of green and red fabric and beautiful beadings of the same colors. They were the finest clothes they ever got to wear. Most girls looked forward to when a new opera would open. Despite the grueling work, they would always get to wear beautiful costumes made from the finest of fabrics that seemed to glimmer and glitter under the stage lights. Most usually would, what with the intricate details put into them.

Meg and Christine giggled to each other as they all walked through the busy halls of the Opera House. Even before reaching the stage, they could hear La Carlotta warming up. The woman was never very nice to the ballet girls. Or anyone else for that matter. But she did have a lovely voice, anyone had to admit that. Though the cast of the Opera House was rather tired of hearing her same rolling Italian voice. Same with her lover, Ubaldo Piangi, who also was usually her leading man.

As they all bustled onstage with the rest of the cast, the maestro, a weary older gentleman named Monsieur Reyer, came into the pit with the orchestra. The girls went through the usual stretches. Some grumbled about there not really being a point in doing so, since they had been dancing since dawn. But still, it was how things went. The rules were the rules. And no one wanted to argue with Madame Giry. Her steely gaze would shut anyone up in an instant.

Rehearsals began without a hitch. Despite the audience being empty, the cast performed as if it was filled to the brim. Many a rehearsal had been boring and much too long. But with the gala being that very night, they would have to give it their all. All day long. It would be a tiring run, but the cast was ready for this. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. The ballerinas were graceful and sang decently. The rest of the cast were on key and didn't miss any cues. Even Carlotta wasn't as shrill as she had been before. But of course, Pianji's Italian accent got the better of him. The poor man. He still struggled with certain words. And Monsieur Reyer always stopped him in attempts to fix it.

When stagehands realized the cast had stopped to fix whatever was wrong, they began milling about onstage, shouting orders to those up above in the flys or carrying ladders and various props around the stage. Everyone waited patiently though, slightly irritated in even being delayed in rehearsals. Meg and Christine waited patiently, giggling softly as Pianji and Reyer went back and forth over the proper pronunciation of 'Rome'. Rehearsals continued on again, until they had run through the beginning song completely.

It left the entire cast breathless and energized for more. The break was welcomed. Of course, most of the performers had much better things to do. But Christine and Meg lived and breathed the opera. As did most of the ballet rats. They didn't want the fame. They just wanted to shine, to feel that wonderful, fluttery feeling inside when they pretended to be someone else. When they could use their specific talents to bring joy.

Meg and Christine sat off to the side, whispering to each other about the show that evening. Everyone was scattered about simply chatting as Monsieur Lefevre walked in with three men trailing behind him. Everyone hushed, but began whispering to each other and staring curiously. Two of the men that had walked in behind the manager were older gentleman in fine clothes. They drank in everything about the cast as Monsieur Lefevre introduced them as the new managers.

New managers?

Everyone was all in a tizzy about that. There had been rumors of Monsieur Lefevre leaving the company, but no one thought they were genuine. He had been a kind old man who handled the affairs of the Opera. He always found pleasure in the shows and the people working for him. And he even humored whoever was doing all the Phantom nonsense. Apparently he believed, as many also did. It would be sad to see him go. The newer managers didn't seem to know much about the theater. They didn't seem artsy enough to understand. But they seemed kind enough, and rather funny.

"The Phantom will have fun with them, won't he?" Meg giggled.

She had begun to truly believe the Phantom was real, and not just a prank all the stagehands were playing on the company. She never shared this with Christine, for fear of scaring her friend. But Meg had entered her mother's quarters without much warning at one time, and had found perfect white and black envelopes with a seemingly bloody red skull as the wax seal. Her mother had scrambled to put them away and never addressed the subject. It seemed rather obvious, and Meg didn't know why she hadn't ever noticed before. Her mother was always the mouthpiece for this Phantom. She would have never been okay with stagehands playing pranks on the ballet girls. They were far too drunk constantly anyways. Meg silently believed her mother, but was more careful with her stories to the girls. If he really was real and this threatening specter, Meg didn't want to upset him. Still, it was rather fun to joke about it all sometimes. Christine would get suspicious if Meg didn't.

"Oh Meg, hush!" Christine laughed softly.

"And may I also introduce our new patron, Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny." Monsieur Lefevre said proudly.

Meg and Christine's giggles subsided as they met each other's eyes. Blue met brown and they both gasped. "Raoul." Meg whispered. Both girls looked up from their places on the floor. Christine couldn't help but smile and lean out just a little, almost as if she wanted Raoul to notice them. Meg, on the other hand, was pale and was beginning to tremble from nerves.

She looked up at him as everyone applauded the new additions of the Opera House. He was so different. He was a man now. He was very tall, but very sturdy. His clothes were fine and suited his strong frame. His hair was short and a darker shade of brown than Meg had remembered it being. It seemed to curl ever so slightly to the nape of his neck. What Meg recognized instantly was his deep blue eyes. They were the same as they were when they had first met. And his smile, oh his smile! It was a nervous smile,but so very familiar nonetheless.

He hadn't noticed them. Of course he wouldn't. Meg knew this would happen. Still, she found herself rising to her feet as one of the new managers, Monsieur Andre, insisting La Carlotta sing the aria her character would sing that evening. Raoul stood by to politely listen, though he was anxious to leave. He hadn't seen Meg or Christine yet, and he was slightly comforted by that fact. None of the silly ballet girls even seemed to resemble Meg or Christine. They all sent him charming smiles and little giggles, but he didn't see Christine's shining blue eyes or Meg's glowing brown pair.

Again he felt that pang in his chest. Perhaps they had forgotten about him. He didn't know which was worse. Not facing them, more specifically Meg, or knowing they had just moved past everything.

He had lifted his eyes to watch the diva sing her aria. Her voice was fine enough. A little sharp, but he could see why she had so many fans. He didn't know too much of the arts, though he had studied them a little after he met Meg and Christine. He had been so convinced they would write to him, and he wanted to have things they could talk about. Sighing, she squeezed his gloves tighter in his hands, simply wanting to escape.

But suddenly, the lamps flickered and there was a sudden shouting from above them. The ballet girls screamed shrill screams as a backdrop collapsed to the ground. It would have collapsed on La Carlotta had she not been pulled away. Still, it was enough to leave her shaking and screaming.

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" A voice shrieked. Raoul felt his heart nearly stop as a tiny blonde girl went running towards a figure he hadn't noticed before. Madame Giry. Raoul widened his eyes, his jaw slacking as he realized that it was her. Meg. That shaking voice belonged to Meg. Raoul looked above, attempting to seem concerned. Which he was, of course. He just was completely thrown. He let his gaze flicker over to Meg, despite the managers fluttering about around La Carlotta.

Madame Giry was attempting to console her daughter, but poor Meg remembered she had left Christine on the floor and went scurrying away in an instant. The managers scolded Meg as she passed, and Meg nearly jumped out of her skin. As if she didn't had enough on her mind! Meg took a deep breath, calming herself as she knelt in front of Christine. Christine had been attempting to catch Raoul's eye, but when the backdrop had nearly killed Carlotta, she had shrunk back against the piano onstage.

"Are you alright?" Meg asked gently. Christine's eyes were wide and she seemed more frightened than anyone else, even Carlotta.

Christine swallowed hard and nodded slowly, managing a little smile. "Of course, Meg. Just caught me off guard."

Meg nodded and took her friend's hands as they knelt together. She looked towards where Raoul stood. Had he seen her? Meg wasn't sure if she wanted him to or not. She would have no idea what to say to him. 'I know I promised to write to you, but sorry, I was too scared.' No, that was stupid. Either way, she was unsure of herself, and very nervous.

Raoul attempted to look anywhere but at the small blonde. He just wanted out of there. He politely excused himself and promised to return for the gala, and hurried away. He didn't know what was more discomforting. Knowing that Meg and Christine were there, in the chorus of the Opera House he and his family were funding, or the fact that apparently their Phantom really was real. He shook his head and glanced over his shoulder once more.

His blue eyes locked with a pair of dark brown, and it made him turn away and hurry away even faster.

Meg's breath caught in her throat when Raoul's beautiful eyes caught hers. She looked back at Christine as La Carlotta also stormed off, insisting she was finished and would not return. The managers bumbled around attempting to find a replacement. As Madame Giry warned the managers about the Phantom, Meg's eyes grew wide. She glanced at her mother before looking towards Christine. Meg locked eyes with Christine, deciding to worry about the Vicomte being there at another time. This was Christine's chance. If the brunette wouldn't say anything, Meg would.

Meg jumped to her feet and pulled Christine up as well. "Christine Daae' could sing it sir!" She practically dragged Christine across the stage until the poor girl stopped firmly in her tracks.

"A ballet girl?" Monsieur Firmin mumbled dryly.

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher!" Meg insisted.

"Oh? From whom?" Monsieur Andre inquired.

Meg looked towards Christine expectantly. She wasn't sure what her friend would say, but she still waited patiently. Christine stammered, frozen in place. "I don't know, sir."

"Fantastic." Monsieur Firmin enthused. "A full house, and we will have to cancel!"

Monsieur Andre took a step forward, studying Christine closely. "Daae? Well isn't that a curious name. Any relation to the violinist?"

Meg noticed Christine soften slightly. "My father, sir."

Everyone seemed to hesitate even still. Meg walked past Christine and gently touched her arm, giving her an encouraging look. Madame Giry had a slight smirk on her face as she stepped forward. "Let her sing for you, messieurs. She has been well taught." Madame Giry and Christine shared a look, a silent conversation happening in their eyes. Meg noticed this as she brought forward Elissa's scarf for Christine to sing with. The poor girl was practically shaking when she tore her gaze from Madame Giry. Meg gave her a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze on her arm as Christine took center stage.

Right where she belonged.

When Christine began singing, everyone was nervous. How silly that a simple ballet girl who had only ever been in the chorus sing the lead role of the new opera? And Christine was shaky. But when she finally gave it her all, everyone seemed to stop breathing.

She had the voice of an angel. She truly was an angel.

\---------------

Christine faced the full audience with glowing confidence. She was finally right where she belonged. The spotlight was as if she was in the sun, and she was absolutely radiant. Meg hadn't ever seen her so beautiful before. She enraptured the audience with her singing and her demeanor. In this moment, she was Elissa.

Raoul de Changy realized he hadn't been dreaming when he saw Meg. For there was Christine, glowing beneath the lights. Her voice was perfection incarnate. Raoul should have been melting, racing the many other men that would surely be at her dressing room door to simply see her. He should have. But all he could think about was the tiny blonde he had seen before.

It was her he needed to see, to speak to. Christine would come next.

Christine was met with a roaring applause. She had never looked so happy or beautiful. The music pulsed within her. When she had taken her final bows and the curtains finally fell, the other ballet girls practically jumped on her. Meg included. They all were a chattering, babbling slur of girlish voices until Madame Giry stomped her cane on the ground. She scolded the ballet girls after congratulating Christine, and escorted them to the practice room. Christine followed, but Meg realized she had turned away and slipped towards the chapel. There was a huge commotion in the grand hall, and Meg knew the festivities of the gala were commencing. Everyone would surely be celebrating well into the night.

Meg glanced over her shoulder, wanting to have some time with her best friend, but also wanting to know what they could do about Raoul. She glanced ahead at Madame Giry and the girls before slipping away. Meg turned down the hall, peeking into the dark shadows as her friend disappeared down into the chapel in a flurry of red and green. A candle for her father, of course. Meg glanced over her shoulder before slipping down into the chapel as well, calling out to her friend.

Christine was grinning from ear to ear as she knelt in front of the candles. Meg giggled upon arriving and knelt beside her friend. "Why on earth did you come down here, hiding from your fans?" Meg touched her friend's hand. "Really you were perfect!"

Both girls giggled at this, the pair practically bouncing. "What's your secret? Is it...is it him?" Meg asked softly, knowing Christine knew exactly who she meant. At this question, Christine's face fell slightly, though her smile could not fade. Slowly, she nodded at Meg.

"Even still, he coaches you?" Meg whispered.

"Even still." Christine finally said.

"Christine, do you truly believe he's who he says he is?" Meg asked cautiously.

The other girl considered this for a moment, her blue eyes searching the small room. "I have never been more sure of anything, Meg. My angel is real. He is the angel of music. I know it. I hear his voice. I...I feel him with me always. How else could I have sung like I did tonight? I feel so weak now, Meg. I gave it all to him. Tonight was all for him." She sighed, her smile faltering. "It frightens me sometimes, Meg. It truly does."

"Christine, hush now. Don't be frightened. You've become so cold. Come, you must rest." Meg squeezed Christine's hand and gently pulled her to her feet. When they turned around, Madame Giry waited with an upset expression.

"Are you not a dancer, Meg Giry? Go and practice!" Madame Giry snapped. "I shall escort Christine back to her new dressing room." Meg nodded and blushed, giving Christine a kiss on the cheek before slipping past her mother. "And Meg. I was asked to give you this." Madame Giry turned, her emerald eyes focusing on her daughter. Be careful. Her eyes read.

Meg looked down at the simple white envelope in her mother's fingers. She shakily took it, nodding slowly as she slipped out of the chapel. In the lamplight in the hall, she carefully tore open the note.

"Don't forget about the boy from the sea." She read aloud. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she winced slightly. "Oh Raoul." She whispered. Meg slipped from the hall and into the practice room where she stuffed the letter beneath her plain white shawl. Once she reached the barre, it took her a moment to realize the other girls had already left. Meg sighed and ran through a few stretches and simple practices before deciding enough was enough. She went and retrieved her shawl and note, before turning towards the door.

It opened before she reached it, and she looked up, expecting to find her mother. Instead, the Vicomte de Changy stood before her, blue eyes fixing on hers.

"Miss Giry. Where is your blue shawl?" He questioned softly.


	5. Chapter Five

Meg was certain her heart had stopped. All the color drained from her face as she stared up at Raoul. Her bag nearly slipped from her fingers as she took a step backwards. He reached his hands out, fearing she would faint away. Never had he seen her so pale, or her dark eyes so large. He swallowed hard, watching as she gracefully stood straight up and regained a normal breathing pattern.

"Rao-I'm sorry...Vicomte...hello." She whispered shakily, her gaze lowering to his cream colored cravat.

"Vicomte?" He asked softly. "Come now, Meg. You can call me Raoul, just as you have before." His fingers reached out, and he took one small hand away from her shawl. He gently kissed the back of it, but did not let her go.

Meg felt like her mouth was stuffed with cotton. She didn't know what to do or say. She didn't know what was proper and what wasn't. She bit her lower lip out of habit, trying not to focus on how warm his hand was. It practically covered her entire tiny hand.

"I'm sorry...I'm just...surprised to see you." Meg whispered, finally lifting her dark eyes to his blue pair. Her knees nervously knocked together, and she felt her cheeks turn bright red as she wobbled slightly.

"And I you." He chuckled, tightening his grip on her hand. "Now, I believe I asked you something, Meg. Where is your blue shawl?"

"I've lost it yet again. You'll have to save it." Meg murmured without skipping a beat. Her lips were still stained red from the performance, and they curved up into a sweet smile.

"It took so much trouble the first time. And the second, with that silly dog of yours." Raoul teased. "I do hope you've since learned how to swim?"

"Indeed." She murmured, sending him another smile.

"But I suppose for you, I'd do it over again, if need be." Raoul said sweetly.

Meg blushed even more, and the softest of laughs fell from her lips as she shyly dropped her gaze. Raoul took this short moment to admire her. She had grown into such a beautiful young lady. Raoul didn't know what this silly feeling in his chest was, but it seemed to grow stronger the longer he was with her. Perhaps it wasn't so bad to see her again. And he would get to as much as he wanted, what with his new connections to the Opera. Her dark lashes fluttered as she looked up at him again, and her breath caught in her throat from the sweetness in his gaze.

"How have the years been treating you?" Meg asked softly, finally finding the courage to curl her tiny fingers around Raoul's larger ones.

"Just fine, I suppose." He murmured. "Rather lonely. A girl promised she would write to me, and yet..." His smile faded ever so slightly.

"Raoul..." Meg began, slowly pulling her hand out of his. She clutched her shawl around her, shaking her head. "I...I couldn't...I wa-"

"No, Meg. You promised. Did you think I would forget?"

"Well yes, actually." Meg murmured.

"I didn't. I never did. I waited for something, anything from you." He nearly reached out and grasped her shoulders. But he kept still, knowing he had held her hand longer than propriety allowed, and anything more would be wrong. He sighed, shaking his head a little. "Why didn't you write to me? You promised."

"I know I did." Meg whispered, her thumb smoothing over the strap of her tiny bag. Sighing, she looked up at him with sad brown eyes. "You know why I couldn't, Raoul. Think of how the world would view us as friends. It would be frowned upon."

Raoul remained silent, his eyebrows furrowing together. Friends. She had said friends. Perhaps she didn't feel that yearning in her heart like he did, that awful tugging feeling in his chest. Now that he had seen her, maybe it would be best to just let her go. Perhaps she would be much happier without him. Did she think he would ruin her life? They were in different social classes, yes, but he would've risked it all.

"I understand, Meg." He sighed, his blue eyes tearing from hers. "Then perhaps you shouldn't have said anything at all that night on the beach." He murmured, turning away from her towards the door. "I should be going. I'm sorry I frightened you."

Meg suddenly reached out and grasped his arm. "Raoul, wait. Please." Her fingers curled around his sleeve tightly. "Please don't go." Her lower lip quivered and her dark eyes were wide. She was suddenly very fearful of him leaving. There was a chance if he left, they would never speak again. Her fingers grasped his sleeve even tighter at the thought.

"And precisely why should I stay, Meg? You've made it very clear that we cannot be friends. Why should I stay?" He asked, blue eyes flashing over her face.

Meg hesitated, blushing as she considered the words that rested on her tongue. "B-because I've missed you. And I'm sorry...I'm sorry about it all, Raoul. I just...I didn't want to ruin your life." She whispered.

Sweet Meg. Raoul couldn't believe that she had thought she would ruin his life. He had thought it the other way around. Raoul found himself reaching his fingers towards her cheek. But before he could touch her, his hand dropped. She never batted an eyelash or flinched away. She just stared up at him with her big brown eyes. "That would never happen, Meg." He promised softly.

Meg flushed, her tiny fingers still clutching his sleeve. "Then...Friends?" She whispered, a hopeful smile coming over her stained lips.

"Yes...friends...if that is what you wish." Raoul murmured, furrowing his didn't want to shut Meg out. He would take what she gave.

"It is what I wish. It very much is." She said quickly, not wanting to give him any hesitation that would make him think she didn't mean it.

"Friends can go to lunch, can they not? This weekend I shall take you out and we will talk and have a grand time." He saw her eyes widen and she blanched. "I won't take no for an answer, my friend." He smirked at her, and reached out to take her hand.

She slowly nodded, her smile returning. "Alright, if you insist."

"I do." He grinned that boyish smile of his as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Would you like to go say hello to Christine? She will be quite excited to see you." Meg asked softly, trying to focus on anything but his warm hand covering hers.

"I'd be delighted. Lead the way." Before she could pull her hand free, he slipped it through his arm and led her from the room.

Meg couldn't help but blush as they wandered through the halls in a comfortable silence. She had very little contact with men. Of course she knew the boys in the ballet and the cast and had come into close contact with them through different operas. And as she grew into a young woman, a few of them made their attraction to her known to them. But what they were looking for was a fling in the darkness, and it wasn't anything Meg was comfortable with at all. She wanted something real and true, something that would be substantial and last forever. Her dark eyes flickered up at Raoul as they moved through the crowds in the grand hall. Perhaps as time went on, that would be with Raoul. But she refused to get her hopes up for that. She barely had her hopes up for a friendship with Raoul.

Everyone around them was far too drunk to even realize the Vicomte had Little Giry on his arm. Thankfully no one would remember it even if they had noticed. Meg led Raoul down a corner towards the dressing rooms. Seemingly wounded hopeful suitors were walking away with bushels of flowers. Madame Giry must have sent them all away. Meg giggled to herself as she led Raoul to Christine's door. It was quieter in this hall, and Meg let go of Raoul to knock on the door.

"Christine?" Meg called. When she didn't answer, Meg stepped closer and tilted her cheek against the door. "Christine, it's me. Raoul is here. May we come in? I haven't lost anything or become clumsy, so we are not two sopping wet children come to ruin your fancy new dressing room." Meg and Raoul shared a laugh. "Christine?" Meg asked through giggles. Still no answer. "Odd. She usually..." Meg reached out and grasped the handle of the door. She jiggled it, and frowned. "Locked. But...she said she would be here all night...earlier...we spoke of..."

"Perhaps she's just gone home." Raoul suggested.

Meg pressed her ear to the door, listening intently for any signs of movement. She could hear footsteps, and Christine singing to herself. Or so she thought until a masculine voice boomed out a response. The Angel of Music was there with Christine. Meg widened her dark eyes and tried to make out what was being said. Raoul heard it too and knocked on the door.

"Christine? Who is that in there? Are you alright?" He knocked a few times, but Meg remained frozen and silent by the door. The voices were beginning to fade, and Raoul began to jiggle the doorknob. It finally gave way, and Meg hurried inside ahead of Raoul. No sign of Christine, or her Angel.

"Empty. But how? She was just here! You heard the voices, didn't you?" Meg asked quickly, turning to Raoul.

"Yes, of course." Raoul murmured, moving through the darkened room to search anywhere he could have thought Christine would hide. Meg watched him with a pale face. She crossed the room, her dark eyes flickering back and forth. When she reached the large mirror against the wall, she touched the cold glass warily. "Where on earth could she have gone, Meg? Is there any other way out of here she could have gone?"

"No...no other exits in here." Meg sighed, turning away from the mirror to look up at him. "Perhaps the Angel of Music has taken her under his wing."

"What on earth does that mean, Meg?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

"Don't you remember? You used to call her Little Lotte. I thought you would've remembered." Meg was staring into space, hoping her assumptions were wrong. Perhaps the Angel had taken Christine away to Heaven, to sing with him forever. She bit her lower lip, shaking her head slowly. "She claimed he was real. That's how she could sing tonight."

"Meg, those were just stories. How could that be possible?" Raoul asked rather flippantly.

"It's true, Raoul. I've heard the Angel's voice." She shivered, reaching up to hug herself. "Christine...oh Christine... I do hope you know what you're doing." She whispered to herself.

He came over to her and gently rested his hands on her arms. "Meg, you must calm yourself. You've become so pale. There's nothing to be frightened of." He whispered gently, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. Meg found herself leaning into his touch, unable to help herself. "Let me take you home. You need rest. Perhaps we just heard echoes from down the hall, and Christine will be waiting for you at home. You mustn't worry so." He whispered. She lowered her eyes, but he tilted her head up so she could look up at him again. She slowly nodded and allowed him to escort her out of Christine's dressing room.

Meg hugged her shawl around herself and clutched her thin bag in loose fingers. As she and Raoul began to head down the hallway, Madame Giry emerged from the shadows. Raoul jumped, but Meg was used to her mother's mysterious appearances and hardly reacted. "Vicomte, lovely to see you again. You sure have grown."

"Madame Giry, you and your daughter are one in the same. Please, call me Raoul." He laughed.

"I should prefer to remain within the bounds of propriety. But I thank you all the same." Madame Giry let the faintest of smiles cross her lips at Raoul's flustered expression. "Marguerite, it's time to go home." Meg blushed at her full name, but nodded.

"Goodnight, Raoul." Meg murmured, looking up at him shyly.

He took her hand and kissed the back of it before she could get away. "Goodnight, Meg. And goodnight to you also, Madame Giry." Raoul smiled. Before they could walk away, he caught her mother's attention once more. "Madame Giry, may I have the honor of taking Miss Giry to lunch this coming weekend?"

Madame Giry glanced at her daughter, who was becoming paler by the second. "If she is well enough."

"Rest up then, Meg." Raoul sent Meg a grin.

"Goodnight, Vicomte." Madame Giry murmured, wrapping an arm around Meg's shoulders and leading her away. Meg glanced over her shoulder at Raoul, a small smile moving over her lips. Her mother gave Meg a squeeze on the shoulder, and Meg turned her attention to her mother.

"Mama, did you know he would be here?" Meg asked softly.

"Perhaps."

Meg rolled her eyes. "So you did. Why didn't you tell me or Christine?"

"You two were so focused on Hannibal. I didn't need you throwing it all away to focus on the Vicomte being here. It's better you found out like everyone else did." She explained softly. "You did wonderfully tonight, Marguerite. You shine."

"Christine did the majority of the shining tonight, Mama. She was beautiful." Meg grinned her dimpled smile. "Oh! Mama!" She gasped, her smile fading. "Have you seen Christine? Is she home already?"

"You needn't worry about Christine tonight, darling. She is taken care of."

\---------

Meg didn't know what her mother meant until the next morning. She and her mother had returned to their small flat around the corner from the Opera House. It was in a large boarding house where many of the other performers also lived. They had quarters in the Opera House, but mainly preferred to be in their own home. Meg and Christine shared a room while Madame Giry had her own. So it was odd for Meg to tuck herself into bed without her best friend in the bed across from her.

But when Meg woke, she found Christine sitting on her own bed, practically rocking back and forth. She was dressed in her nightgown and robe, and her dark curls were wild and fell over her shoulders. It took Meg a moment to wake up as she realized that Christine was really there, that she was alright and not gone forever. Meg sat up and smiled sleepily at her best friend. But upon realizing that she was distraught, Meg got up and hurried towards the brunette. Christine was shaking, and her blue eyes were foggy and a million miles away. Meg wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders. Upon doing so, Christine began to weep, and leaned her head on Meg's shoulder.

Meg sat with Christine like that for hours. The poor girl didn't stop crying and whimpering about her 'angel'. Meg didn't know what was wrong or what she could do to help. Finally, her friend lifted her head and look at Meg with miserable blue eyes.

"Oh Meg...it was all a lie. My whole life is a lie." She whimpered.

"Hush, Christine. What is this about?" Meg asked gently. Her voice cracked ever so slightly from going so long in silence.

"My Angel, Meg. Oh...oh you shall love this." Christine let out a choked sob mixed in a bitter laugh. It was an awful sound for Meg to hear her make. "He's him. The Phantom of the Opera..." She sang in a weak voice.

"Nonsense, Christine." Meg muttered.

Christine quickly lifted her head, fire flashing in her reddened eyes. "I saw him, Meg. He's real. I only knew because of his voice. His wonderful voice. The one that trained me, saved me. Oh Meg! I hate him. I hate him so much. He lied to me, he lied to me!"

Meg was rather frightened. She had never seen her best friend in such a manner. She bit her lower lip nervously. "Christine...Christine..." Meg tilted Christine's head up slowly. "This cannot be."

"Oh but it is...it is." Christine whispered. "He's the Phantom...he's not my Angel of Music sent by my Papa. He's...he's a ghost. Oh Meg, his face...it's like the stories...but worse...much much worse. He took me below the theater...where there is no sunlight, no warmth. Everything is icy...everything is dark. So dark, Meg. I don't know how I am alive from such darkness!" Christine sniffled, rubbing her nose on her sleeve like a child. "Oh but Meg...his voice...his voice was so sweet...it was him...my tutor...my...Angel...he is real. I should be happy to know he's real after all this time. But oh, the lies! The lies, Meg! To know that he is the Phantom we've told stories about our entire lives...it's too much!"

Meg had no idea what to say. She just stared at her friend all dumbfounded and pale, allowing her to continue. "Yet...his eyes, Meg...I've never seen such pain, such adoration. He's so ugly, so terribly horrible. His lies most of all. But his eyes...his voice...he's still...he's still my Angel." Christine whispered as her head slumped back down on Meg's shoulder. "My Angel..."

\---------

A week passed and Christine remained in bed for the majority of that time. She could not be pulled out of her thoughts or tears. Meg was terribly worried for her friend's sanity. She hardly left her, unless her mother shooed her off to rehearsals or whatever. Madame Giry didn't always make Meg go to to rehearsals. Meg had a silent role in the new opera. Madame Giry only ran through certain things with Meg privately if need be. She understood that Meg had to stay with Christine. The Opera House needed Madame Giry more than they needed Meg.

Lunch with Raoul had to be cancelled, and though he was unhappy about that, the Vicomte understood. He didn't quite know what was going on, but he would wait for Meg. He had waited six years, and a few more days wouldn't kill him.

One particular morning, Meg woke to find that Christine was not a sobbing, shaking mess on her bed like she had been every morning that week. She was fast asleep, her breathing even and her sleeping face peaceful. Meg was rather shocked to find her best friend so serene. She looked like an angel. Meg stood up slowly and dressed as silently as possible. Her friend lacked sleep that entire week. She couldn't risk to loose more. Meg slipped out of the room and found her mother in their tiny kitchen.

"Good morning, Mama." Meg murmured. Madame Giry held out a mug of tea for her daughter. Meg sipped the warm liquid slowly. "Christine is sleeping. Very peacefully."

Madame Giry looked towards her daughter, a relieved smile crossing her usually tight lips. "Wonderful. Poor Christine...I never wanted this for her."

Meg frowned, slowly lowering her mug down to the counter. "Did you know all along, Mama?" She asked in a soft voice. "Did you know he was not an angel...but the Phantom?"

Madame Giry sighed, lowering her gaze away from Meg. "I did." She shook her head. "Sit, darling. I shall explain." Meg sat at the table, her mother coming to stand near her. "When I was younger than you, I lived in the ballet dormitories, training to become a ballerina. There was a traveling fair in the city. Gypsies, tumblerers, human oddities...they had it all. I had never seen anything like them in my entire life. The girls and I were intrigued, of course. It was all very exciting." Madame Giry grew somber. "But I shall never forget one...'act' in particular. There was a man locked in a cage. They boasted about his accomplishments, and yet he was filthy and beaten. A muslin sack was over his head. We didn't know why until we saw the sign that read 'Devil's Child'."

Meg grew uneasy the longer her mother spoke of this. She didn't like the direction this conversation was going. Madame Giry noticed this and brought Meg her mug of tea before continuing on. "The gypsy who owned him beat him in front of us. The crowd laughed at him, begging to see the evil of his face. And as a show's climax...the bag was torn off. I shall never forget the blankness in his eyes. He was used to something as terrible as this life. I shall also never forget his face." Madame Giry's voice shook ever so slightly. "When everyone left, I stayed behind and...and I helped him escape. I brought him to the Opera House and took care of him. He became the Phantom on his own."

Meg stared at her mother with wide dark eyes. "How did he become deformed?"

Madame Giry shrugged her shoulders. "Birth, it seemed." Meg gasped, shock crossing her face. "Do not fear him, darling. He would never harm you or I. Or Christine. Never. He is not the 'Devil's Child' they claimed him to be. He is a damaged human being." She hesitated. "But he is a genius, Marguerite. A prodigy. Truly. You must believe me, darling. Don't give me that look. He's a musician, magician, composer, architect. They claimed he had once built for the shah of Persia. The only name I have ever known to be his is...Erik."

"And you help him? Why?" Meg asked softly.

"It is my responsibility. I helped him escape, therefore it should be me who helps him with whatever he needs. The stories are true, in some ways. He built his home in the deepest cellars and he lives on the lake below. He is tall and thin and I'd say your stories about his face are closer to the truth than you realize." Meg looked away sadly as her mother said this. She and the ballet girls had always just tried to think of the most gruesome things in describing the ghost. Even when Meg learned it was true, that there really was a Phantom. She just had no idea they had been right.

"What about Christine, mama? She thinks her life is just a lie. Poor Christine! I wish I could help her. I feel so helpless in all this." Meg sighed.

Madame Giry considered this silently, her gaze lifting towards the window. "Christine will survive this, Marguerite. Erik lied to her, yes...he very much did. But look at all that has been accomplished despite it all. He has become so much different than when I met him...softer in a way. She is strong. I do not deny that what he did was wrong. On the contrary. But Christine never would have gotten a chance like this otherwise." She paused, going to where her cane rested against the wall. "You and I have always known Christine was destined for greatness. But you know I could have never afforded to pay for lessons for her. Now...now she can succeed and have the life I promised her father I would give her."

"Thanks to a lie." Meg mumbled, shaking her head. "But you are right, Mama. Christine never would've had this chance." She whispered, lifting her mug to her lips to take a drink of tea.

"I learned of his first encounter with Christine just a little while after we returned from holiday. He insisted he was only trying to comfort Christine. She had cried so much, wanting her father. He never meant for it to continue on. But he saw something in her...her voice. He wanted to mold it, to make it his. I warned him not to do anything to hurt her. I would send Christine away if I had to. I still would. Perhaps I should." Madame Giry shook her head sadly.

"No, Mama. You cannot! Please, don't send Christine away. I'm sure whatever happened the night of Hannibal can be remedied."

"She saw his face, darling. You don't understand the emotional trauma that most likely has caused him." Madame Giry shook her head. "And for her also. But there's no forgetting the horror that is his face. I don't know what will happen now. I simply don't know."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked softly.

Madame Giry just shook her head again and looked towards the clock. "That's enough for now, darling. We must go to rehearsals." She turned away, sighing. "These are all things you needed to know, Marguerite. Please, do not tell a soul."

"Of course, Mama." Meg stood up and followed her mother to the door. "Oh, wait! Christine...what if she wakes and find us gone?" Meg whispered, realizing they would be leaving the sleeping Christine behind.

"She will be fine." Madame Giry promised. "We must attend to our duties. She needs rest and she will get all that she needs. You must focus on rehearsals. I shall check in on her soon enough."

Madame Giry and Meg immediately went into the practice room. Meg changed and stretched with the other girls. They ran through a few simple exercises. Meg did her best to focus when they began to practice a rather dainty ballet from act three of the new opera. It was very hard to focus. Her mother's tale was still fresh in her mind and being a distraction to her. Still, she seemed to outshine the other girls. Meg had a strange grace about her that set her apart from the other girls.

The ballet girls were stopped when a messenger came into the practice room with a note. The poor boy was shaking as he held it out to Madame Giry, and Meg hurried towards her mother curiously. She patted the boy's shoulder gently, speaking softly to him to calm him down before escorting him out of the room. When Meg returned, Madame Giry had a dark expression on her face.

"Ladies, excuse me. I must speak with the managers of something. Stay here and run through your exercises once more. You too, Meg." Madame Giry touched Meg's cheek gently.

"Mama, what is it?" She asked softly. "Where must you go that I cannot?"

"I only have to speak to the managers." She sighed.

"Please let me come. It's about Christine, isn't it? Please, Mama. Let me come." She furrowed her eyebrows together and took her mother's hand off of her cheek. Meg squeezed Madame Giry's cold fingers in her smaller ones, her dark eyes wide and begging.

"Alright, Marguerite. Come along, then."

They reached the managers' office shortly. Even from outside the door the bickering was clearly heard. There was quite the commotion occurring. Madame Giry and Meg let themselves in. La Carlotta and Pianji were there, shrieking and fuming over something. Meg caught Christine's name a few times, and she curiously looked over her mother's shoulder as they walked inside. The managers were attempting to calm the diva and her lover. It was a shame they had gotten so much trouble and they only had been there a week. Raoul was there also, though Meg couldn't see his face. Meg frowned a little, noticing there were notes in each person's hand. They matched the little envelope in her mother's hand also.

Madame Giry stomped her cane on the ground to stop all the madness. Everyone jumped at her sudden arrival. Raoul's blue eyes flew up from the note in his hand in alarm. When he noticed Meg, he fought running to her and asking what all this nonsense was about, why she hadn't been around and where Christine was. He sent Meg a questioning look, but she found she could not meet his gaze.

"Madame Giry! Finally, you've come to explain everything to us." Monsieur Firmin grumbled. "You've been avoiding us all week, my lady and it is time you begin to answer some questions."

"Do not think you can tell me what to do, Monsieur." Madame Giry said sharply. "Miss Daae has returned, and has been unable to return to the Opera House as of late. I can assure you that she will return here when she is feeling better."

"And just where is she now?" Monsieur Andre asked flippantly. "Il Muto is to open tomorrow night!"

"I thought it best that she remained home." Madame Giry answered.

Meg stepped past her mother, a frown on her face. "She needed rest!" Raoul took a step closer to Meg, his gaze probing and inquiring. She looked up at him for a brief moment before moving to stand beside her mother again.

"Is she well?" Raoul asked gently.

"We must meet with her." Monsieur Andre interjected.

"No. She will see no one. She is not to be disturbed." Madame Giry held her hand up, leaving the discussion closed.

"Will she sing? Will she sing?" La Carlotta shrieked.

"I have a note." Madame Giry held it out to them, placing it safely into Monsieur Firmin's hands. Meg just watched silently, listening as Monsieur Firmin read the note aloud. Christine would be playing the Countess, and La Carlotta would be playing the silent role of the pageboy. As ordered by the Opera Ghost. A disaster beyond imagination would occur if they did not abide by his wishes. Meg looked up at her mother, curious as to know what would happen. Christine couldn't be in a well enough emotional state to perform so soon. And at the Phantom's bidding!

As La Carlotta fumed about the office, Raoul came to Meg. He said nothing, but held his note out to Meg. She took it and read it silently.

Vicomte de Chagny,

Do not fear for Christine Daae. The Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again.

O.G.

Meg frowned. How had the Phantom, this Erik, even know Raoul had tried to see Christine? The note made it sound like Raoul was attempting to gain a different type of audience with Christine. As if she was romantically involved with the Vicomte. Meg lifted her dark eyes to Raoul, holding the note out to him.

"I only wanted to see a dear old friend again, Meg. Please don't think like this specter and think I am interested in that manner." His fingers flexed, almost as if he would touch her hand. But he didn't. Meg found herself lifting her fingers though, in a slight manner. "Of course I wanted to see Christine again. But you were the one I thought of most through the years. It was you I missed most." He whispered, finally allowing himself to touch his fingertips to hers. She gasped, and he turned bright red before turning away quickly.

By the end of the hour, the managers had practically kissed La Carlotta's bottom enough for her to agree to be the prima donna again. She would play the Countess. They would be blatantly going against what the Opera Ghost had commanded for his kingdom.

But that also meant that Christine's moment in the sun was gone.

Or was it?


	6. Chapter Six

Rehearsals ran long into the night. La Carlotta had to be fitted into the costume and practice with the company. The diva insisted she knew her part perfectly, but the managers insisted upon a proper rehearsal. Which meant that Christine would be needed to practice her role. It was a silent role, but it was still necessary for her to be there. Meg didn't think it would be best for the girl, but the managers insisted.

She was sent to gently coax Christine out of the apartment. The entire walk over Meg felt nervous. She didn't want to damage poor Christine even more. Thankfully the brunette had gotten some rest the night before. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to get her dressed and back to the Opera House.

The cool breeze brushed over Meg, sending chills down her spine. She hugged her plain white shawl tightly around her. Soon it would be winter. Meg loved winter. She loved playing in the snow with Christine and the fashions of winter. They could never afford anything extravagant, but it was always nice to window shop and notice the ladies that had exquisite winter clothes. Meg also liked snuggling up with huge quilts and sit by the fire with a good book and mug of hot chocolate.

Was it winter yet?

Meg grinned to herself, moving through the streets. Thankfully the boarding house was very close to the theater. She took a deep breath before slipping inside and upstairs to their apartment. When she opened the door, she expected silence. Not...singing?

"Christine?" Meg called out.

Christine twirled out of the kitchen, dark curls pinned atop her head and a broom in hand. She laughed and blushed with embarrassment, her song ending instantly. She seemed refreshed and clean, and Meg noticed her dark curls were damp. Christine must have taken a bath. And she was dressed in a clean day dress. What shocked Meg most was the easy smile on Christine's lips, and the shining light in her blue eyes.

"Hello, Meg. Where did you and your mother slip off to?" Christine asked in a light voice.

"Um...rehearsals...and a meeting with the managers. Christine, the Pha-erm...Erik...he wanted you to have the role of the Countess." Meg said as gently as she could. Christine's eyes lit up, and Meg caught the corners of her lips tilt up. "The managers gave it to La Carlotta. You were given the silent role."

"Oh. Well...a role is a role. I should be so thankful that they even gave me anything in the light." Christine said with a small smile. She leaned the broom against the wall, and slipped the apron around her waist off. "I assume I'm needed, yes?" Meg nodded slowly. "Alright. Give me a moment and I'll find my shoes."

Meg followed Christine into their bedroom, studying her cautiously. "Are you alright, Christine?"

"Yes, of course." Christine found her shoes beneath her bed and slipped them on. "Should I not be?" She giggled.

Meg widened her dark eyes. "No! No, it's wonderful that you're okay. I've been so worried about you...I'm glad to see you smiling again."

"There's no need to dwell on past events. Things happen. The world...isn't a perfect place. I'm alright, Meg." Christine murmured, brushing a dark curl out of her face. Meg wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe that Christine would be alright and move past all this. She wanted to believe that the light in her eyes and the smile on her face would last. But Meg knew Christine would still hold on to her Angel, this Phantom.

Meg slowly nodded and reached out to give her best friend a strong hug. "I love you, Christine. I just want everything to be okay again." She murmured. Christine giggled softly and hugged her friend just as fiercely.

"Don't you worry, Meg. Everything is fine." Christine murmured as she pulled away. "I love you too. Now come along, we don't want to keep them waiting."

\------------------

Upon returning, rehearsals were in full swing again. Meg and the other girls ran through the ballet for the managers before La Carlotta and Christine ran through their scenes together. Everyone complimented Christine on her fresh face and smile, and it was obvious Christine would make the best of her silent role. She shined even without saying a word. Meg watched her from the wings, a small smile on her lips.

"Christine should be playing the Countess, not Carlotta." A masculine voice beside Meg mumbled. She jumped and looked up quickly. A little sigh of relief escaped her as she recognized her friend Alessandro. He had always been a good friend to Meg, without pushing anything or wanting anything from her like the other boys who had made their affections known. He was born in Italy and brought to Paris when he was a young boy. His accent was interesting, and Meg liked hearing stories of what he remembered of Italy.

"I don't know...she finds ways to shine even in the faintest of lights." Meg replied. "Christine would excel in anything she does. She always has." Meg smiled proudly, sending Christine a little wave as the brunette glanced over at the blonde.

"True." He chuckled. "Though I am curious as to know who her tutor is. He must be descended from Heaven itself to bestow such a voice on a girl."

Meg flinched, but tried to cover her true feelings with an easy smile. "Something like that." She murmured.

"Oh come, tell an my dear! I can keep a secret." He hunkered down close to her, and she couldn't help but laugh as his tall frame loomed over her.

"I'm afraid I'm sworn to secrecy, my dear Alessandro." She laughed, resting her hand upon his arm. "Let's just say it was a miracle and leave it at that."

He grinned at her, his green eyes dropping to her small hand still on his arm. He liked how small Meg was. He thought they made a nice looking pair. Perhaps one day he could take a step in that direction. For now, she would never see him as anything but a friend. Before he could say anything more, Madame Giry whisked Meg away to change her costume. Meg also had a silent role, though she wasn't as prominent as Christine, obviously. Alessandro sent her a small smile before looking back towards the stage.

The Vicomte had been watching the exchange between Meg and Alessandro from his place with the managers in the audience. The pair had seemed very comfortable together, and it didn't sit well with Raoul. He wanted to be the one to make Meg smile, to make her laugh like that. He needed to be more assertive. They weren't children anymore. Things weren't as easy as before. He shook his head, and he looked towards center stage where Christine and La Carlotta bounced about. He wasn't particularly fond of this new opera. It was comedic and all around silly.

He had liked the ballet though, for obvious reasons.

Meg appeared with three other heavily made up actors. She was dressed as a maid, and Raoul couldn't help but notice how adorable she was. She was so light on her feet as she moved to the stage. Christine sent Meg a bright smile, and Meg sent an almost hesitant one back. Raoul noticed her dimples hadn't appeared when she smiled. Was something wrong? Nothing seemed really wrong to Raoul. Christine was practically glowing. Perhaps her break from the Opera House was good for her.

Though all this nonsense with the notes and the Opera Ghost and Meg fearing a so called 'Angel' from storybooks didn't sit well with Raoul. Obviously something beyond his understanding was happening.

Meg brushed her fingers over the elaborately designed maid's outfit she wore as they took their places onstage. She adored the costumes she was privileged to wear on a daily basis. She would stay poor her entire life if it meant doing this every single day. Of course, she'd die an old maid with a million books and most likely some cats. Still, it sounded pleasant enough if it meant being onstage. Even dress rehearsals thrilled her. Well, they usually did.

Christine was just so happy. It shouldn't be odd, but after the past few days, after learning everything she had known wasn't true, Meg thought her friend would be distraught longer. Something was going on. Meg just couldn't figure out what.

Perhaps Christine really was just happy. Maybe she had just mourned it enough and was ready to continue on with her life.

Meg shook her head and focused on rehearsals. It was hard though, when she realized Raoul was sitting with the managers in the audience. His blue eyes seemed to be locked on her. Once she had realized he was there, she felt his gaze the entire time. She managed to send him little smiles, and couldn't help but show off a little. He sent her easy grins, his blue eyes crinkling in that way she adored when they were children.

Meg's fingers still tingled from hours before. The slight way he had reached for her, the sound of his whispered voice...it all made Meg lose focus just thinking about it. She stumbled, knocking into one of the other girls playing a maid also. She frowned at Meg, and Meg instantly turned bright red. She pulled her cap down a little more, attempting to hide her red face as she moved back into position.

Meg couldn't let a silly boy fog her mind like this. She had to focus on her dancing, on her future. She didn't have time for boys, and that included the Vicomte.

But still, Meg couldn't help but look over at him with shy brown eyes. He sent her an amused, yet sweet smile in her direction. Sweet, warm Raoul. It was easy for Meg to think of him as the boy on the beach who had saved her shawl for her. It was hard to think of him as an aristocrat, as the Vicomte de Chagny. Her lips slowly quirked up into a smile, and she felt her cheeks grow warm the longer they held eye contact.

Despite her deepest urges not to, Meg was getting her hopes up. Maybe her future held something more than dancing. Maybe her future held the boy from the sea.

\---------------------

Rehearsals ran long into the night. The managers had tried numerous times to slip away with different excuses, which only resulted in La Carlotta throwing a fit and even mustering up some crocodile tears at times. It would take much too long to console her, which was the main reason they had to stay in the theater so late. Everyone tried to keep their spirits high and stay positive about rehearsals. But it was difficult with La Carlotta running everything.

Even Raoul was stuck there. Not that he minded. He enjoyed the light music and watching it all come together. He felt like he was let in on a secret by seeing rehearsals like this. Everyone was just as poised as they would be if they were in front of an audience, but sometimes a person would crack and burst into a laughing fit or trip over themselves or something.

He also didn't mind watching Meg also. He liked watching her expressions when she was acting, and the almost ethereal way she danced. Raoul swore the music pulled her like a puppet. The other girls seemed to dance in a pattern of practiced steps. But Meg was actually being led by the music. Raoul sighed, staring up at Meg dreamily as the ballet girls practiced the ballet for act three. Meg didn't seem to notice anything but the music and the dance, even at such a late hour. Her costume had to have been heavy, and her feet aching. But she didn't even reveal that to anyone. Not once.

Something moved above the girls, but no one seemed to notice. Raoul tore his blue gaze away from Meg briefly to look up. He had to lean forward in his seat to see the stagehands high above the stage in the flies. One Raoul recognized as Joseph Buquet from the day he first arrived at the Opera House was drinking with another stagehand. Raoul stood up, stretching his legs as he took a step towards the side of the stage. A few ballet girls giggled and stumbled a little, noticing the handsome Vicomte coming closer to them. But Raoul was paying more attention to the two men up above.

Perhaps the Phantom had indeed dropped the backdrop upon La Carlotta before Hannibal, and not the careless stagehands. But if they didn't stop wobbling up there, they were sure to drop something on the unsuspecting ballet girls. Raoul casually moved onstage, his hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. He stuck to standing in the wings, muttering something to one of the male dancers about needing to stretch his legs.

The music was swelling and fluttering, and the girls seemed to flutter along with it. Raoul smiled a little towards Meg before looking back up. Two more stagehands came across the flies, and the boards began to sway from the weight of more men. They all seemed to bicker over the full bottle of alcohol, and the creaking of the boards above caught the attention of a few stagehands below who merely laughed at the men above.

Raoul assumed this was merely theater life. No one was bothered by all those men up above rehearsals laughing and drinking over the music and instructions of Madame Giry. Raoul didn't want any trouble. His eyes flickered above every so often, not wanting to see one of those men come tumbling to their death. What a horror for the ballet girls to see!

Raoul glanced at Meg, his shining blue eyes picking her out instantly. She paid no mind to anything else, even still. Even in the midst of the other girls, she stood out. Raoul smiled warmly at her, wanting to see her look towards him with those big brown eyes of her and that sweet dimpled smile. He sighed dreamily again, completely distracted by her graceful figure.

The trouble he didn't want had arrived though. One of the men kicked at a rope holding down a spare sandbag, which went sailing to the ground like a heavy rock. A few ballet girls noticed this and began to screech and shove each other out of the way. But it took Meg a moment to pull herself out of the music and dance to realize that the sandbag was dropping right over her head. She gasped, her hands flying to her head. She had no time to attempt to run away, for the sandbag was falling speedily.

Raoul instantly ran onstage and grabbed Meg, pulling her out of harms way. Everyone looked angrily up at the stagehands above. But Raoul just stared down at the tiny blonde wrapped in his arms. She was hugging him as tightly as she could despite her elaborate costume in the way. She was so tiny. Her head barely rested beneath Raoul's chin. He couldn't help but smile as he hugged her back just as tightly.

"Everything is alright, Meg." He murmured gently, savoring the feeling of her warm breaths on his neck, her soft hands wrapped around him. She lifted her head slowly, large dark eyes flickering across his face quickly. Her breathing was shaky, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

"You idiots! What if I had been on stage? You could have killed me! Stupid fools!" La Carlotta shrieked. In a way, the diva had a point. Being hit with a sandbag could put you out of the theater for an extended amount of time. It could do serious damage to a person. A stagehand had once died from being hit in the head with a heavy sandbag. Even if she was only looking out for herself, she had a point.

Meg looked up at Raoul, her lips parting as she attempted to form words. Nothing came out, despite her best efforts. She blushed bright red as she realized how closely he was holding her. She had never been held like this by a man before. Even through her elaborate costume, he was so very close. Meg swallowed hard and bit her lip out of nervous habit. It was so hard to focus on anything but his warmth. And his wonderful smell. Never before had she breathed in such a musk.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, his gaze flickering over her in worry. She looked up at him blankly, her mind foggy from him being so close to her. All Meg could do was nod. Forming words was not an easy task.

"Meg! Oh, Meg!" Christine's voice suddenly cried as she ran across the stage.

Everyone around them was all in a tizzy and yelling up at the drunk stagehands. Buquet merely laughed at everyone, and Meg felt her skin crawl from the sound. He wouldn't have cared one bit if the sandbag had done damage to Meg or anyone else in the company. Stupid old drunk.

Raoul reluctantly released Meg as Christine hurried close. "Oh Meg, are you okay?" She instantly wrapped Meg in her thin arms, hugging her close. Meg just nodded, managing a slight smile for Christine when the brunette pulled away.

"I'm fine." Meg squeaked.

"How lucky were you that Raoul pushed you away in time!" Christine grinned at Raoul cheerily.

Raoul smiled at Christine before looking towards Meg. He gave both girls a little nod before lifting his gaze to the flies. He stepped away from the pair, and Christine moved to take Meg to her mother. Madame Giry touched Meg's cheek gently, noting the flush on her daughter's pale cheeks. She kissed her forehead and nodded slowly at her.

"You'd do better to pay attention next time, gentlemen. You could have seriously injured one of these girls." Raoul said firmly. Meg looked up at Buquet, frowning at the older man.

"Oh yes, Monsieur le Vicomte. We wouldn't want to damage your little harem, would we?" Buquet slurred, his voice mixing into a laugh. Everyone gasped at the audacity the old stagehand had. To speak to the Vicomte in a way was unthinkable.

"How dare you!" Raoul instantly went red, and he felt anger bubbling in his blood. "You ought to hold your tongue, you foul creature!"

Buquet had nothing to say to that. He just smirked at Raoul and bowed mockingly. Meg stepped away from her mother and Christine towards Raoul. She wanted to say something, anything. Her small hand reached out towards him, but he turned away from everyone and hurried offstage.

"I think we've had enough of rehearsals for one day everyone." Monsieur Firmin called out.

"We deeply apologize for the insolence of our staff. This will all be resolved in the morning. Mlle. Giry, our deepest apologies." Monsieur Andre said. Meg smiled and nodded at him. "Firmin, come. Perhaps we can still catch the Vicomte." Both managers hurried out of the theater after Raoul as fast as they could.

Madame Giry called all the ballet girls together and led them backstage to change. She had to get all the girls into their beds for the night. First, she had to be sure all the costumes were carefully removed and put away so as to be ready for the next day's performance.

"Are you alright, Meg?" Christine asked as she helped Meg by untying her costume.

"Yes, I'm fine." Meg murmured.

"That was a very brave thing your Vicomte did for you." Elena, one of the ballet girls called out.

Meg instantly turned bright red. "He's not...oh goodness...he's certainly not mine." Meg insisted in a hushed whisper.

Christine laughed softly. "He certainly jumps at every opportunity when you need rescuing." She whispered.

"Oh Christine!" Meg blushed instantly.

"He moved so quickly to you! Oh how romantic!" Another girl squealed.

"How lucky are you, little Meg! He's so handsome." Another sighed.

"Oh but he's not..." Meg started, looking over her shoulder at the other girls.

"How did he feel?" Elena asked with a sly grin.

"Excuse me?" Meg turned bright red.

"Yes, oh, he seems so strong!"

"Perhaps I shall pay the stagehands to drop something so the Vicomte can save me this time!"

"Oh you must scoop him up fast, Meg!"

"Enough, girls. We've all had enough excitement for one night. Get changed and ready for bed now." Madame Giry said sternly, banging her cane upon the ground. All the girls quieted down, thankfully.

"It really was quite romantic." Elena whispered, coming over to grin at Meg.

Meg looked up at the girl with a shy smile before finally nodding in agreement. Elena giggled and skipped away to find her nightgown. Christine finished up with Meg's costume and turned the small blonde around. Meg hugged the material to her chest as she looked up at her friend. "Raoul is a very sweet man, Meg." Christine murmured with a little laugh.

"Yes, indeed he is." Meg murmured, lifting her eyebrows in surprise.

"Perhaps you and he..." Christine tapped Meg on the nose, and Meg instantly turned bright red and shook her head.

"Oh Christine, you know that could never be." Meg stepped away to find her dress and change into it.

"And why not?"

"Because he's the Vicomte, and I'm...little Meg." Meg chuckled softly, shaking her head slowly.

"You never know!" Christine insisted, taking Meg's costume from her.

"I do know, actually." She murmured, quite tired of talking about it all.

Christine reached out and adjusted the collar of Meg's dress. "Have you considered the fact that he is your childhood sweetheart?"

Meg blanched and looked up at her friend. "Christine!" She exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

"It's true!"

"We both met him at the same time, so he must be yours also!" Meg mumbled, moving to sit and slip her pointe shoes off. She winced a little from the soreness in her feet, and she slowly wiggled her toes.

"Oh Meg, that's silly! It's not my shawl he saved." Christine giggled.

"It could have very well been your red scarf and not my blue shawl." Meg sighed, going to slip her boots on for the walk home. She undid her bunned up hair and ran her fingers through the golden curls.

"Well it wasn't. It was yours, Meg. I've seen the way he looks at you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you the entire time during rehearsals." Christine came over to her friend and smiled warmly. "I'm just saying, don't shoot him down so quickly just because of a silly thing like social class, alright?" In a very soft, almost motherly fashion, Christine brushed her fingers over Meg's jaw.

"Okay." Meg sighed, slowly getting to her feet. She brushed her fingers over her middle, shaking her head a little.

"I still need to change. Your mother and I will meet you in the lobby, alright?" Christine murmured.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" Meg asked softly.

She shook her head a little and smiled. "No...I...I am going to go light a candle for my father. It's been too long since I have." Christine's smile fell just slightly, and Meg stepped close to her friend.

"Will you be alright?" Meg asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes, of course. I'll be quick." Christine had a faraway look in her blue eyes. "I'll be safe. You needn't worry about me, Meg. Just don't leave without me." She smiled at Meg before turning away to change out of her costume.

Meg sighed, watching Christine move through the clumps of girls in the cramped dressing room. Hopefully Christine knew what she was doing. Meg knew the meetings that would happen in that little chapel. After learning all of this about the Phantom being Christine's Angel, Meg wanted to protect her friend. Obviously the Phantom wasn't going anywhere if he was sending notes and threatening the managers.

Meg bid everyone goodnight and slipped out of the dressing room. A few cast members were milling about the halls as they left for the night, though the majority of them were long gone. Meg headed out to the lobby and took a seat on the stairs. She liked to sit in the lobby sometimes. It was just so huge and beautiful, and a true work of art. Meg couldn't believe how privileged she was to come to a place as beautiful as this every day.

She hummed to herself and rested her elbows on her legs, cushioning her head in her palms. Her bed was calling her name. All she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Her humming was interrupted by a rather large yawn escaping her. Meg blushed and got to her feet. She couldn't fall asleep on the cold marble steps, and Christine and Madame Giry would arrive at any moment.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. Then twenty.

Meg was getting antsy. Most of the company had passed her by. All that was left were the ones who lived in the dormitories and the managers. Perhaps Raoul. Meg doubted he would stay much later. He had been so angry at Buquet.

Another ten minutes passed.

Meg sighed and decided she needed to just go find Christine or her mother. Madame Giry must have gotten tied up with getting the ballet girls into bed. And Christine...Meg just hoped Christine had gotten emotional while lighting a candle for her father, and not swept away again by a certain Opera Ghost.

She slipped through the wings, hoping she would bump into one or both of the ladies. The halls were always darker when no one was keeping the lamps going. Meg did not fear getting lost. She knew the theater better than she knew anywhere else in the world. But it's winding halls and dark shadowy caverns never failed to make her uneasy. All she wanted to do was find her mother and Christine and get home.

The further down the halls she got, she began to hear voices. Perhaps Christine had found Madame Giry and needed to speak to her. Or perhaps some of the company was still around. At least she wasn't alone. As she came closer, she recognized her mother's voice. Meg peeked around the wall to see if it was Christine with her mother. She could at least make out her mother's figure. But whoever she was speaking to was nearly shrouded in shadows. It was as if they actually were a shadow.

"I've had enough of him, Giry. I mean it this time." A deep voice murmured in response to something Madame Giry had said. "That filthy drunk has no place in my theater. His actions today only confirmed what I've always thought."

Meg pressed her tiny fingers to her lips, dark eyes going wide. She could have fainted away from the sound of that voice so clear and near to her. She swallowed hard and forced herself to remain calm and strong. He actually was there. The Phantom of the Opera. The Angel of Music. Erik!

"Erik, you must calm yourself. He's a fool. Let us merely send him away." Madame Giry responded.

"I'm surprised you said that. His drunken actions today nearly killed your own daughter. Do you not care?" Before Madame Giry could even respond, he continued on. "It's not your decision. I've had enough of him. The stories about me, the careless acts! It will not continue on."

"And what do you propose to do?" Madame Giry asked in a much too calm voice.

Meg listened intently, waiting for The Phantom's response. There was a deep sigh, and her mother made a clucking sound under her breath. "And here I thought you were past all that, Erik."

"I can never be 'past all that', Giry. There is no getting past...that." Erik sighed. "Buquet's mistakes today was the last straw. The managers may get their disaster if Christine is not in place of Carlotta tomorrow. They need to learn. This is not their place." A deep chuckle escaped him, chilling Meg to the bone. "It will take more than it did for Lefevre, that's for certain."

"Erik, don't be rash." Madame Giry urged. "It's not worth it."

"You know as well as I do that Christine deserves this role, that spotlight. She was born for the sunlight, the glory. And I made her that way, Giry. It was me who took care of her." His voice nearly shook with emotion. Meg furrowed her eyebrows. Did this man love Christine? Or was he obsessed with her? Meg didn't like the thought of either. She didn't like the thought of the ghost of scary stories being the one in love with Christine.

"And look how that all turned out." Madame Giry pointed out. "Christine needs the sunlight, Erik. Do you think threats and darkness will please her?"

Meg nodded in agreement, but didn't stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. She didn't want to be caught by either person. Especially not him. She walked through the halls and into the theater, which would give her an easier way back into the lobby to wait for her mother and Christine.

Meg knew she had contributed to the stories of the Opera Ghost. But it had all been in girlish fun. Buquet always took the stories to the next level. He pushed the stories too far, scared the girls in ways Meg never could or wanted to. He was a disgusting old man who loved his bottle of whiskey far too much.

"Well, Little Meg!" Speak of the devil. "I didn't expect to see you onstage again. Not without your Vicomte around, anyway. Come, have a drink with an old man."

Meg cringed, but didn't stop to look for the source of the voice. She knew the stagehands always hung around the stage after everyone left for the night. She had just hoped to slip out of there without any of them noticing her. But of course, plans change.

"Good evening, Buquet. I cannot stay and chat. I must go meet Christine." She said smoothly. There was a sound of feet hitting the wood floor of the stage, and stumbled steps over to her. Meg looked over her shoulder and saw Buquet come walking towards her, ropes from the flies tangled around him.

"I do hope you forgive me for my accident today, Little Meg. I can be so terribly clumsy." He slurred.

"Of course. Accidents happen." She murmured, stepping off the stage. He followed close behind, and Meg gasped as his hand curled around her arm.

"How lucky of you that the Vicomte was there to save you, eh? He sure favors you. I can certainly see why. You've become such a lovely little thing. The Daae' girl too." He leered at her, and Meg nearly vomited from the stench of alcohol and uncleanliness that radiated off of him.

"Let go of me." Meg said firmly.

"I'm sure he'll have his fun with all you little ballet girls. Lucky boy. He's got a few more francs in his pockets and he gets all the ladies." Buquet sniffed Meg's hair, and Meg rolled her eyes.

"Oh shush, you old drunk!" She yanked her arm out of his grasp and glared at him. "You'll do best to hold your tongue, Buquet. Or you'll be fired."

"Well, don't you have some fire in you! All the quiet ones do." He had a disgusting smile on his lips, and his breath smelled terrible. "I'm not going anywhere, little Meg. I'll always be here."

"Even if the managers or the Vicomte keep you here, the Phantom may have other plans for you." Meg warned. And it was partially the truth after what she had just heard in the hall.

Buquet just let out a drunken laugh and leaned in close to Meg. "Oh yes, I'm so sure!"

"Perhaps it would be best if you stepped away from Miss Giry, Buquet." A voice said from behind Meg. She slowly turned around to find Raoul walking down the aisle towards them. He had his head held high and a stern look upon his face, looking every bit an aristocrat. She looked up at him, relieved someone had come to apprehend the drunk.

"Mm, indeed sir. She's a good girl. You'll have fun with this one. She's spirited." Buquet reached out to pat Meg's blonde curls. Before he even could, Raoul grabbed his wrist roughly and shook him away.

"That's enough. Goodnight." Raoul said firmly, fixing the old drunk with a glare. "Come, Meg." His voice grew gentle, and he held his arm out towards Meg without tearing his glare away from Buquet. Meg quickly stepped forward and slipped her hand through Raoul's arm. Her breath caught in her throat, but she let Raoul escort her out of the theater and into the lobby.

"You must grow tired of this." Meg couldn't help but laugh as they slowly walked across the elaborate marble floors.

"Pardon?" Raoul asked, dropping his softened blue gaze to Meg.

"Saving me. Coming in and being my white knight. It's shocking that you're even real." She murmured quietly, releasing his arm shyly.

Raoul couldn't help but laugh and take her hands in his. "I am every bit real, sweet Meg. See?" He gave her hands a little squeeze and she couldn't help but laugh. He grinned at her, and lifted her fingers to his lips. "You must realize that I am quite happy with being your white knight, should you want me." He murmured.

Meg felt butterflies enter her stomach at that statement, and she couldn't help but blush and look away from him shyly. Raoul watched her girlish motions with fascination, his thumbs smoothing over the backs of her tiny hands. "Thank you, Raoul."

"So you do, then?" He asked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. Meg quirked her eyebrow questioningly at him. "W-want me?"

Suddenly he was that shivering little boy on the beach, holding her mother's blue shawl out to her. When she met his gaze, something passed between them. Suddenly Meg's heart began to beat to the pattern of his own. Suddenly everything seemed different. She parted her lips to speak when footsteps on the steps behind them sounded.

"Oh Meg, so sorry we took ages. I had to help your mother and then I had to go light a candle and...oh Raoul! Hello." Christine babbled as she hurried down the stairs. She grinned a bright smile at the pair, and Meg blushed and released Raoul's hands upon realizing how close and intimate they seemed.

"It's alright, Christine. I'm patient." Meg murmured, unable to look at Raoul. She feared she would throw her arms around him and never let go. Flushing, she looked towards her mother.

"Yes, indeed you are. Come, let's get going. We've a long day tomorrow." Madame Giry murmured, somewhat tense about something. Meg bit her lower lip before nodding.

"Goodnight, Raoul." Meg murmured shyly, finally lifting her gaze to Raoul's handsome face.

"Goodnight, Meg." He reached out and grasped her fingers before kissing the back of her hand.

"Here, it's probably gotten cold out." Christine held out Meg's coat for her, and Meg had to let go of Raoul's fingers in order to put it on.

"Oh please tell me you ladies aren't walking home at such a late hour! Please, allow me to give you a ride home." Raoul insisted. He wasn't about to let three women walk the streets of Paris late at night. He had already apprehended one drunk and that was his limit for the day.

"Raoul, it's alright. We live right around the corner." Christine murmured with a smile.

"Nonsense, it's no trouble." Raoul insisted. "I cannot have three very important ladies out there at this hour. Plus, it is terribly cold out. It shall take no time at all."

"Thank you, Vicomte." Madame Giry nodded. "Lead the way."

Raoul grinned at the ballet mistress before reaching for Meg's hand and slipping it through his arm again. An instant red blush came across her cheeks, and Christine giggled at Meg's expression as Raoul tugged the small blonde along. Meg looked up at Raoul shyly, and he smiled down at her as he led her outside. She bit her lower lip as the cold breeze blew her golden curls out of her face. She shivered and grasped his arm tighter, ducking her head slightly into his warmth.

Christine and Madame Giry watched from behind with bemused expressions. They watched as Raoul led Meg to the carriage that had no doubt been waiting outside for quite some time. Madame Giry liked how gentlemanly the Vicomte had become. He was sweet and seemed to shine around her daughter. The fact that he had saved her life that evening was rather important also. She glanced behind her at the Opera House in all it's glory before looking towards Christine. Perhaps it was a good thing the Vicomte had most of Meg's focus. Madame Giry didn't feel as bad now, and she could focus on Christine and the problems she and Erik were facing.

At this thought, Madame Giry wrapped her arm around Christine as they headed towards the carriage. Christine smiled at the older woman and kissed her cheek sweetly before Raoul helped her up into the carriage. Madame Giry sent Raoul a look as he helped her in also. The young Vicomte just smiled and nodded his head in understanding at the older woman.

Meg looked around the beautiful carriage, her fingers smoothing over her dress in a nervous fashion. Her dress would be wrinkled from the amount of times she had clenched the fabric in her fingers. Christine's soft giggle as Raoul climbed up and sat beside the small blonde seemed to wake Meg, and she looked up quickly. Raoul gave her an easy smile as he turned into the small window to the driver to tell him where to go, thanks to Madame Giry's directions. Had her mother told him? She must have. Meg blushed a little and looked over at Raoul as he settled beside her and the carriage took off.

He engaged the ladies into a light conversation about the performance the next night. Christine and Madame Giry spoke easily to Raoul. Christine kept glancing at Meg, hoping she would pipe up and say something. But Meg was too focused on the little moments she and Raoul had had before Christine and her mother appeared. She didn't have much time to think about it really, since the boarding house was around the corner.

When the carriage stopped, the driver helped the ladies out of the carriage. Raoul followed once Meg had gotten out. Madame Giry and Christine bid the Vicomte goodnight and began to head inside. Meg followed closely, feeling rather too shy to say anything to the young Vicomte. She thought she could get away, get inside and get washed up. Perhaps she'd climb under her quilts and allow herself to get all fluttery and think about Raoul. Perhaps she would think about what to say the next night, how to answer his question.

But nothing was that easy.

Raoul's hand caught hers before she could get too far, and she turned to look up at him shyly. Both stared at each other for a moment, lips parted in yearning to say something. No words found Meg's tongue, except, "Goodnight, Raoul."

He widened his blue eyes a little from the quiver in her voice. "Goodnight, Meg." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, before covering her tiny hand with both of his. "I shall see you tomorrow. Perhaps we can finally enjoy a meal together like we've been wanting to." He murmured.

"Yes...perhaps." Meg smiled a little, her cheeks flushing. "Thank you again, Raoul. You saved my life today."

"It's worth saving." He murmured softly, which made Meg smile her dimpled smile he adored. "Sleep well, Meg." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before slowly releasing it. Meg smiled shyly at him before turning away towards her mother and Christine who waited on the porch. They had amused expressions on their faces, and Meg just brushed past them with a silly little grin on her face.

Alright, maybe she could allow herself to hope.

Just a little bit.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made it so the lead ballerina in the Il Muto ballet was Meg. Just kind of a good headcanon for me to work with. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I didn't want to take away the meaning behind Raoul and Christine's rooftop union like in the original, but I do hope you guys like the interaction with Meg and Raoul! It took me so long to figure something perfect out and I really hope it works.
> 
> I didn't think it necessary to write out The Mirror scene through Stranger, since just about the same happens as it did in the musical. But I thought it necessary to include this little scene between Erik and Christine.

"Philippe, if you're coming with me, would you mind quickening the pace? Surely it doesn't take that long to shave." Raoul leaned against the doorjamb into his brother's bathroom, his toe tapping against the floor impatiently. Raoul was fully dressed and ready for the opera for that evening. He had spent all day just thinking about the show and seeing Meg again. Upon arriving home the night before, his older brother was still up sorting through paperwork, so the two had chatted for a while. He had been interested in taking in a show with Raoul, which the young Vicomte was happy to do.

But goodness, was he anxious to get there!

"My dearest brother, I think you're at the age where one has learned patience by now." Philippe chuckled, not changing the pace of his shaving one bit. In fact, Raoul swore he was going slower.

Raoul grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I just don't want to be late. And of course now you choose to be a sloth."

"You're such a child." Philippe teased, rinsing his blade before continuing. "I thought you said we needn't be there until seven? It's only six now."

"Well...you never know how the roads can be at this time. Carriages everywhere..." Raoul sighed, adjusting the scarf resting on his shoulders.

Philippe held back a laugh. His little brother had come home the night of the Hannibal gala going on and on about the little blonde girl whose shawl he had saved from the sea. He hoped his brother knew the problems that could come about in the aristocratic society if the Vicomte seriously considered marrying this girl one day. But Philippe, as stuffy as he came across, understood love. He knew Raoul was wrapped around that girl's finger from the moment the young Vicomte had jumped into the ocean willingly, and had been for years. Their father and sisters didn't notice the faraway look in Raoul's eyes or the disappointment anytime mail came and nothing was for him.

Going into the Navy had been the best choice for his brother. It had made him tougher, it had taught him a lot. He had learned that not everything came easy, that the world behind their polished walls was harsh and deadly. His brother had come home a man.

Still, it wasn't lost on Philippe how Raoul would still scour the mail each day with that childish gleam in his blue eyes. He knew that when Raoul would sit and stare off at nothing, he was thinking of that girl from the sea. No matter how tall his younger brother stood or the stern expressions he had at times, he always waited for that little blonde girl's letter.

Nevertheless, as sweet as it all was, it wasn't right. The de Chagny's had a reputation to uphold. Raoul could have his fun for now, but in the future he would need to be serious. He would need to marry a reasonable woman of a good family and continue the heir and take care of the family should anything happen to their father or Philippe.

Philippe just hoped his brother realized that now, before anyone got hurt.

\--------

Christine expertly laced Meg's costume silently. Christine was lucky to have such a simple costume. Meg's was heavy and lacy. Beneath her maid's bonnet, her golden curls were pinned expertly atop her head, a floral wreath pinned in for the ballet in act three. The other girls bustled around them getting ready and giggling, while Meg and Christine kept quiet. A few girls joked with them that they were practicing for their silent roles of the night. But the girls only were focusing, preparing inwardly for going onstage. They always did before a show, no matter the size of their role.

At least Christine was.

Meg's mind was running a million miles a minute. One moment she would be thinking of Raoul, of what he had said to her the night before, and the next she would think about the warnings she had heard the Phantom make to her mother. Madame Giry had no idea her daughter had come across them and had been eavesdropping, and Meg definitely didn't tell her mother or Christine what she had heard.

Erik wanted Christine in the lead role, to shine as she had in Hannibal. But the managers gave in to another diva who was much more famous, who was more recognized. It didn't matter that Christine deserved the spotlight, that the audience had loved her.

Meg just hoped the managers understood that Erik really was The Phantom of the Opera. He took his job as the Opera Ghost seriously.

When he meant a disaster beyond imagination, there would be one.

\------

"We are so very honored to have you both join us tonight. It's quite a treat!" Monsieur Firmin beamed at the older, blonde de Chagny.

"I'm pleased to be here. Raoul has spoken so highly of this beautiful place and I thought it was time I come see world renowned Opera Populaire." Philippe said easily.

"And we are ever so grateful for your support." Monsieur Andre said. "I do hope you enjoy our newest opera tonight. It's a bit of a laugh."

"Indeed!" Monsieur Firmin chuckled.

"I'm sure I will." Philippe smiled politely, and glanced at his younger brother. They were on the top tier of the lobby, and other theater-goers were passing them to get to their seats. Raoul seemed to be distracted, and his blue eyes flickered around almost nervously. Searching for his little ballerina, Philippe supposed. Perhaps she was a great beauty, for Raoul's attention to be captured so.

"Your brother sat in on our rehearsal last night." Monsieur Andre murmured. Raoul looked towards the managers and his brother quickly when the charismatic manager spoke. A sly smile curled Andre's lips upwards at the young Vicomte's quick glance over. "He was quite the hero."

"Oh? What did my valiant brother do now?" Philippe smirked, knowing that by the flushed look on his brother's face, it must of had to do with the little ballerina. "He's always bounding in and saving people." Philippe murmured, sending a teasing glance towards his brother.

"Why, he saved one of our finest ballerinas, the ballet mistress' daughter!" Firmin chuckled.

"Would that happen to be Madame Giry's daughter?" Philippe grinned now, and all the men glanced at Raoul with sly grins.

"Indeed. She's such a pretty little thing, isn't she Firmin?" Andre chuckled. "Quite a lovely little thing for you to have, Monsieur le Vicomte. I do hope she proves fun for you."

Raoul widened his bright blue eyes as the older man winked at him. Was it possible for a man to be interested in a young woman for anything other than physical needs? Meg was astoundingly beautiful and graceful, but there was so much more to her than just that. Raoul had only skimmed the surface as a boy, yet he wanted to know more about the little ballerina. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, the things she enjoyed and the things she hated. He wanted so much more than what these men thought.

"My brother and I actually met Miss Giry and her friend Miss Daae' when we were much younger. I have no doubt they have both become lovely young ladies." Philippe smiled, taking the attention off of his flustered brother.

"Why, I had no idea!" Monsieur Firmin chuckled.

Raoul squeezed his gloves in his hands tightly, nodding slowly. "Indeed." Raoul murmured. The lights in the lobby began to flicker, alerting the opera goers of the time to take their seats. Raoul let out a sigh of relief and his shoulders straightened as he smiled. "Gentlemen, if you would care to take your seats, we shall be sitting in box five."

"Do you really think that's wise, Monsieur?" Monsieur Andre murmured to the young Vicomte, attempting not to glance at the older de Chagny and alert him of the problems they had had.

"There appear to be no other seats available than box five. Look at this crowd that has shown up! Box five is the only one open." Raoul practically babbled. A laugh escaped him and he shook his head shyly. "Come, it has the best view anyways."

The managers followed Raoul and his brother down the hall and into the special box. Madame Giry had been directing a few guests to their seats, and looked up as the gentlemen filed into the box. She quickly stepped forward and touched the young Vicomte's arm.

"Monsieur, do you think that's wise?" She asked in a low voice.

"Madame, there are no other seats available. Nothing shall happen, I can assure you." He chuckled. "Do give Meg my best. I'm sure she will shine tonight. Christine too." Before the ballet mistress could say anything more, Raoul slipped into the box and shut the door. Raoul sat beside his brother, while the managers sat behind the pair.

"Is everything alright?" Philippe asked. "Why the apprehension with this box?"

"An old superstition. Everything is fine, brother."

\-----------------

At least that's how things seemed.

The show started perfectly. The stage was set with all the bright, elegant set pieces. The mood was light, and the orchestra bouncing and happy. Everyone was in their element. The audience roared with laughter and La Carlotta was doing a lovely job. Christine even shone in her silent role, giving even a silly role like this her all. In fact, her little actions and movements were what the audience reacted to more. Meg wouldn't let her worries get to her. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe Erik would leave them alone, just this once.

Or not.

"Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty!?" A mighty voice suddenly growled. The lights of the chandeleir flickered from the force of his voice, and gasps were heard in the theater. Everyone froze, the orchestra stopped. Except Meg.

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" She couldn't help but shriek, her fingers grasping her costume tightly as she scurried across the stage. Her dark eyes flew upwards towards Raoul in box five. The young Vicomte was leaning over the edge of it, sending Meg a reassuring nod. Meg swallowed hard, her small hand lifting to her chest where her heart pounded. The reassuring look in Raoul's eyes made her turn back towards the audience.

"It's him, I know it, it's him." Christine whispered to herself, her blue eyes lifted skyward nervously.

"Your part is silent, little toad!" La Carlotta hissed, grabbing the poor girl's arm in her tight grasp. Christine was frozen, allowing the diva to shoot the insult at her. What could she say anyways? Still, Christine sent La Carlotta a cold look.

"A toad, madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad!" Erik laughed, the lights flickering eerily. His voice echoed about the theater, sending chills down everyone's spine.

La Carlotta released Christine and let out a little laugh. The audience still wasn't completely comforted, despite the easy smile on La Carlotta's face. She instructed the maestro to continue, despite the gasps and soft protests from the other actors onstage. It wasn't a smart thing to test the Opera Ghost. Everyone knew the different things he was capable of doing.

The orchestra picked up again, and Meg watched as Christine attempted to get back into character. It was difficult. The poor girl was officially distracted now. La Carlotta continued easily, despite the obvious chill in the air.

Just as the diva began to sing, her voice turned to a terrible croaking sound. Everyone gasped, and a few laughs escaped the ballet girls offstage. Meg sent them frowns, which did nothing to silence them. A laugh Meg could not ever attempt to silence sounded out above them, in an almost mad tone. Everyone seemed to hesitate, but La Carlotta determinedly continued on. All that escaped her was awful, terrible croaking sounds. The laughing got louder from the Opera Ghost, and the poor diva reached around her in tears, the sound still escaping her. Christine gently reached a hand towards the panicking diva, attempting to comfort her and calm her down.

"Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!" Erik laughed, his voice turning crazed and hysterical. Everyone lifted their gazes to the exquisite chandelier, which was indeed shaking and trembling like the poor diva was.

Piangi ran onstage to La Carlotta and pulled her away, shielding her as best as he could with his short, stout frame. The rest of the cast stood by, unsure of what to do. Even the orchestra remained silent. Now what?

"Ladies and gentlemen! We apologize!" Monsieur Firmin spoke up from box five. The inhabitants of the box didn't seem much phased by it all, even Philippe. Raoul couldn't tell if his older brother thought it all part of the show or if he actually took it seriously like everyone else. Nothing ever seemed to phase the older de Chagny. "The performance will continue in ten minutes time when the role of the Countess will be sung by Miss Christine Daae'!" He waved at the brunette onstage, who ran off to the awaiting Madame Giry to help her change and prepare quickly.

The rest of the cast was just left onstage, staring dumbly at each other. "Ladies and gentlemen!" Monsieur Andre suddenly yelled, coming onto the stage. He was out of breath from his run, but he managed to remain as calm as possible. "In the meantime we shall be giving you the ballet from..." He flipped through his program, muttering to himself before lifting his head with a grin. "Act three of tonight's opera!" Everyone onstage rushed off, hurrying to pull the set pieces out. "Maestro, the ballet! Now!"

Meg rushed backstage, hurrying to change out of her maid's costume and into her nymph costume. She was supposed to go offstage during a scene between Serefimo and The Countess and have plenty of time to get it perfected. Now she had to rush! Thankfully the other girls dancing in the scene were already prepared, and could cover for Meg as she hurried.

Meg spotted Christine hurry away down the hall to a private dressing room to prepare. Meg was stuck with the other girls who had been in the first scene, cramped and squished together as they quickly changed. Still, they each helped each other and hurried away towards the stage again when finished. They waited for a cue from Madame Giry when to slip in. Two girls were sent out, and Meg waited patiently before her mother waved to her as well.

Dark eyes caught the slightest movement above her as she stepped onstage. A shadow moved across the backdrop, and she quickly looked up. All she could see was a dark figure moving in a catlike fashion along the flies. She bit her lower lip, feeling her stomach flip flop nervously.

Still, Meg fell into the dance easily. She knew she could do this dance with her eyes closed from the amount of times her mother had made them practice it. Still, she kept her eyes wide open, trying to follow the shadows behind them on the screen. She could hear the audience murmuring about the slip ups the opera had been having that evening, and they only seemed to grow louder whenever a shadow could cross the backdrops.

She danced across the stage easily to Alessandro, who awaited her with the bright smile that of his character, the shepherd. But his smile faltered at the look in Meg's eyes, despite her own seemingly calm expression. He gave her an encouraging nod as they danced briefly together, before he sent her to dance across the stage in that otherworldly grace she possessed.

Nerves were coiling into the pit of Meg's stomach. She quickly looked up towards box five, noticing Raoul speaking to an older gentleman. Meg realized it was his brother, but didn't have much time to really notice as she danced. She tried to keep a smile on her painted lips, tried to remain calm and happy as she was meant to be. But something was happening, and she couldn't stop to get a good look as to what.

They were going to get their disaster beyond imagination.

The ballet girls danced in perfect sync with each other, as if they hadn't just rushed around backstage and had the Opera Ghost himself taunting the audience and La Carlotta only moments before. Meg waited for something to happen, but it seemed like nothing was actually going to happen. Perhaps the shadows were merely stagehands moving about. Perhaps it was just a lighting error. Meg just forced herself to relax and lost herself in the dance, slowly beginning to ignore the knot in her stomach.

As the girls all bunched together in center stage with Alessandro at the lead of them prancing around, he suddenly froze and lifted his hand skyward. Not many of the ballet girls noticed, but those that did notice the menacing creature standing above with Buquet began to flee the stage. Alessandro reached out and grabbed Meg's arm, pulling her out of the music and dance with that simple touch.

Raoul watched this all carefully, noticing how the man grabbing Meg seemed to see something above. He looked up, and went pale as he realized the stagehand he had apprehended the night before was being choked by a dark figure. He quickly looked down at Meg, who had stopped her dancing to look at the man who was pulling her away with a confused expression. The lights began to flicker again as the Phantom's maniacal laughter echoed around the theater yet again. The ballet girls had been bending to grab their flower wreaths, and Alessandro was still attempting to pull a confused Meg offstage so she wouldn't see anything with those innocent eyes of hers when it happened.

The disaster.

There was a sickening cracking sound amidst the Phantom's laughter, and the ballet girls looked up at the body of Joseph Buquet. The audience began shouting in surprise, and many jumped up in surprise. The managers stared in shock for a long moment, before calling out to the audience not to panic, not to move a muscle.

Raoul didn't hesitate as he quickly jumped up and hurried out of the box, despite the protests from his brother and the managers.

All that ran through his mind as he raced downstairs and into the theater was Meg.

Alessandro pulled Meg to the side of the stage, cupping her face in his hands to stop her from looking up. The sound of the stagehand's neck cracking had been enough for Meg. She could hear the ballet girls screaming as Alessandro carefully led her offstage. "Everything is okay, everything is okay." Alessandro stammered.

Meg shook his hands off of her, suddenly feeling very sick. She could not get the sound of Buquet's neck cracking out of her head. The shadows she had seen were no lighting errors. There had been a death at the opera.

Everyone was all in a flurry, and the managers were attempting to calm the audience down. Stagehands quickly rushed in to help, and the curtain closed as quickly as possible to shield the audience from the view of the dead man. The girls still squealed and screamed and cried as they rushed backstage backstage, and the loud sounds only made Meg feel worse. She tried slipping through the crowd of actors, tried to ignore the shouting of everyone around her.

"Meg! Meg!" Alessandro cried, trying to stop the blonde girl from leaving his sight. He was her friend, and he couldn't let her be alone. It wasn't safe!

Meg just kept moving, her small hands reaching forward. She didn't realized she had begun to cry, or that her head was slowly drooping as she blindly pushed through the throngs of people. She just wanted out. She wanted air. She wanted to scream. Oh, she had heard her mother's conversation with the Phantom! Perhaps she could have stopped this, could have done something to warn everyone! He didn't deserve to die, no matter how disgusting he might have been. He didn't deserve this!

Familiar warm hands suddenly grabbed Meg's waving hands. She quickly lifted her head, seeing Raoul through her blurry vision. "Meg! It's me, it's Raoul! Come, come with me!" He shouted as gently as possible. She nodded her head quickly, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. Raoul kept a tight grasp on her hand before turning and leading her away.

Alessandro saw the young Vicomte pull Meg out of the throng of people. What he also saw was the warmth in his gaze, at the physical change in Meg's demeanor as he pulled her to safety. His heart sank, and he watched their retreating forms as they ran away. The Vicomte didn't deserve Meg, if those were his intentions. He would take a delicate flower and get what he wanted from her and then dump her. Alessandro wouldn't let that happen. He would save Meg before letting some aristocrat use her.

\---------------

Christine had been in La Carlotta's dressing room when Buquet died. It was still as ornate and beautiful as it had been the night of Hannibal. Madame Giry had been silently lacing Christine into her costume, each elaborate piece needing to be tied a little tighter to fit around Christine's smaller frame. La Carlotta was a beautiful woman, but much more curvy than Christine's younger body. Madame Giry kept glancing at the clock, not wanting to upset the managers and be late with getting Christine out onstage.

"Mama Giry?" Christine whispered in a soft voice.

"Yes, dear?" Madame Giry looked up at Christine's reflection in the mirror, noticing how tired the poor girl seemed.

"Does...does Erik...does he...l-love me?" She stammered, never tearing her gaze away from the large mirror he had whisked her away in only a week and a few days before.

"I don't know, dear." Madame Giry murmured after a moment. "In his way, I suppose." The older woman sucked in a deep breath. "Do you have feelings for him?"

"I don't know...oh I don't know..." Christine said woefully. "He lied to me. And what a great lie it was! My Angel of Music is the Opera Ghost! My Angel I thought my Papa sent to me...is a man...and what a face..." Her voice began to shake, but Christine forced herself to keep it together. "Mama Giry, what am I supposed to do?"

Madame Giry tied the dress around the shaking girl before turning her around. She rested her fingers against Christine's cheek, giving her a weary smile. "I wish I had the answers for you, my dear." She sighed. "I know your dear Papa would never approve of this. But I also know he would have wanted you to be happy." Madame Giry paused. "You need the sunlight, Christine. You deserve to be happy and to shine."

"Erik is full of darkness...he is darkness incarnate." Christine closed her eyes slowly.

"Perhaps you are the light that will save him, my dear." Madame Giry managed the slightest of smiles. "Only if that is what you feel is right."

At that moment, a scream in the hall caught Madame Giry's attention. She quickly turned away from Christine and went to the door of the dressing room. The ballet girls were all gathered in the hall, shrieking and a few even sobbing. "What is wrong? Girls, calm yourselves, hush!" Madame Giry ordered as gently as possible.

"Oh Madame Giry! The Phantom, he killed Buquet!"

"The Phantom!"

"Buquet is dead!"

Christine had gone pale inside the dressing room, and she felt like she was going to be violently ill. Add murderer to the list of names for this Erik. A murderer. A murderer loved her!

"Christine, stay here, please." Madame Giry helped the poor brunette sit on the stool. "Everything will be alright. Stay here, don't go anywhere." The older woman quickly left the room and closed the door. She calmed the girls down before hurrying down the hall to find someone with answers.

The only one who actually could give her answers was the very murderer everyone was running from.

\-----------------

Meanwhile, Meg and Raoul had run far from the stage. Raoul had no idea where he was going, having not memorized the layout of the twisting theater yet. But they found themselves in the stable, where the air smelled like horses and fresh hay. A few stable boys looked up as Meg in her full costume and the Vicomte in his finery appeared out of nowhere.

Meg was still shaking like a leaf, and Raoul had yet to let go of her hand. He led her to a bench near an empty stall, and helped her to sit. He knew they needed to return. Madame Giry would be looking for Meg, and Philippe would be looking for Raoul. But Raoul would not leave Meg. Not now, and he was prepared to never leave her side.

"Meg..." Raoul whispered, turning towards her small frame. The heavy stage makeup she had been wearing had smeared, and he managed the smallest of smiles as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. She looked down at the offered fabric, her cheeks becoming red as she realized the mess she probably looked to him.

"I don't want to ruin it." Her voice was in such a soft tone that it nearly broke Raoul's heart.

"Oh Meg." He chuckled softly, before lifting the soft material to her cheek and gently brushing the tear stains away. She closed her eyes as he swept the material gently under her eyes, wiping away any smeared makeup. Meg could hardly believe how tender and gentle Raoul was being with her. When he was through, her dark eyes slowly opened and finally lifted to meet his shining blue pair.

As she stared at him, realization began to hit her. Her eyes slowly dropped to his cravat, and her tiny hand lifted to rest on her middle. Raoul noticed how pale Meg instantly became. "Meg..." He began, not wanting her to cry anymore. He decided it had been the worst thing to see when he found her blindly pushing through the throng of people.

"Oh Raoul...Buquet...I could have stopped it. Oh that madman killed him and I could have stopped it!" She began to cry again, and her head lowered into her hands.

"Meg...what are you talking about? Hush, it's alright." His arm slid behind her shaking shoulders, hoping he could give her some sort of comfort.

"It's my fault! I could have stopped it." She whimpered, slumping slightly beneath his touch.

"No, Meg, it wasn't your fault at all." Raoul had no idea what she was talking about. But the poor girl seemed so convinced that she had somehow caused this.

"I heard him threaten Buquet...the Phantom...he told my mother he would send a warning to the managers...they didn't know I heard them...but I did. And I could have done something!" Meg looked up at Raoul with a desperate look in her eyes.

"No, Meg...no." Raoul murmured as gently as he could. "It is not your fault." He said forcefully, needing her to know that. She couldn't blame herself for this crime. "It was the man's time, no matter how terrible it happened." He lifted his hands to her cheeks and brushed away the tears beneath her eyes. Her small hands lifted to curl around his arms, holding him in place in a weak gesture. She slowly nodded and took a deep breath before looking up at him.

"He loves her, you know." Meg whispered, her sobs subsiding.

"Who does?" He just wanted her to stop crying. He hated seeing her in pain.

"The Phantom. He loves Christine. That madman lied to her, told her he was her Angel of Music. Surely you remember those stories?" She murmured, her eyebrows furrowing together in that childish way he remembered.

"Yes, of course. Christine always fit the bill of Little Lotte. Her father had even told her the Angel of Music would come to her." Raoul paused, watching as Meg dropped her gaze away from Raoul, her fingers loosening around his sleeves. He brushed his thumb across her soft cheek, sighing quietly. "Then it is all true. The Opera Ghost, the Angel you spoke of the night of Christine's disappearance."

"He's all in one. Angel, Phantom, man." Meg whispered. "Murderer." Raoul's hands slipped from her face, and she instantly missed the warmth of his touch. His hand took hers in his gently, and he lifted her small hand to his lips.

"Everything will be alright, Meg. Nothing will harm you, or Christine." His blue eyes met hers, and Meg bit her plump lower lip out of usual, nervous habit. She slowly nodded, and looked down at their linked hands.

"How can you be so sure of that?" She whispered, her thumb smoothing over the back of his hand.

A laugh escaped Raoul, and Meg lifted her dark eyes to his to see his easy smile. "Because I'm here. Nothing can harm you if I'm here." He promised. Meg felt her stomach fill with butterflies and she couldn't help but smile slowly at him.

"How right you are. That's how it always has been, hasn't it?" She smirked, quirking her eyebrow slightly. Raoul just laughed again and nodded, bringing his other hand to rest upon their linked hands.

The wind was chilly as it blew through the stable, warning the pair that not only had the night's chill settled upon Paris, but winter was soon coming also. Meg shivered slightly, blushing as she realized she was still in her elaborate costume. The lace sleeves that hung low on her shoulders did nothing to protect her from the cool air. Raoul noticed this and stood up, releasing her hand and slipping out of his jacket. Meg blushed again, lowering her shy eyes to the layers of lace trim on her costume. When she looked up again he was bringing his jacket around her, making sure she had a grasp on it before sitting back down on the bench with her.

"Perhaps we should return. Mama will be wondering where I am." Meg whispered, though many thoughts still plagued her mind. The warmth of his coat and the distinct musky scent of it was awfully distracting though. Raoul was silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he considered what to say next. He didn't know what would happen if he took Meg back inside. He didn't know when the next time he would have a quiet moment alone with her to say anything. He needed to seize the moment while it was right in front of his face.

She began to rise, but he grabbed her hand quickly to keep her there. "Meg." He breathed her name like a prayer, and she slowly closed her eyes from the sound. "I still need an answer."

Meg felt her stomach flip at his soft murmur. "They'll worry about us..." She said nervously, slowly opening her eyes to look at his cravat. Anywhere but his eyes. If she looked into his eyes at that moment she was scared her words would leave her and she would melt.

"Meg...please." His hand came to her cheek and she let him lift her face. She hesitantly met his eyes, and her heart pounded wildly within her chest. Meg felt her heart swell with something unnameable from the look in his eyes. She nearly burst into tears from the warmth and adoration in his gaze. "I'm tired of this...this feeling inside of me that never seems to find relief." He hesitated, and his thumb gently moved across her cheek. "Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of you. I never stopped hoping I'd see you again. You, Meg. As fond of Christine as I am, it was you who filled my mind. It's always been you."

"Raoul..." She whispered.

"Wait." He lifted his other hand to her face again, and she let him. "I need to know, if you feel the same, Meg. I...I feel as though we are bound together forever. We are linked to each other." He brushed his thumb across her cheek. "Please don't leave me again, Meg. Please tell me what you feel for me is the same. Please tell me I am not imagining your feelings." Raoul took a deep breath. "I fear that if the bond between us were to break...I could not be mended."

"Nor I." She felt hot tears fill her eyes again, and she let out a little giggle. "I do...I do feel the same, Raoul." Raoul finally smiled, glad Meg wasn't crying from fear or pain any longer. She was happy. He was making her happy. As he knew it should be.

"I love you, Marguerite Giry." Raoul said truthfully, without hesitation.

Meg sighed and closed her eyes. Raoul brought her close, their foreheads touching. "Say it again. This time, without my full name." She whispered teasingly, her stomach filled with nervous butterflies from how close they were. She could feel his warm breath on her lips, nearly felt his lips brush hers. Never had she wanted a kiss so badly before.

"I love you." He laughed softly, his nose brushing hers as he came closer.

"And...and I love you, Raoul. I think I always have." Before she could pull away to grin her bright dimpled grin at him, his hand had curled around the back of her neck and was pulling her closer. His lips had barely brushed hers before their noses bumped together, causing them to pull away and laugh together.

Raoul tilted his head slightly before leaning in and capturing Meg's lips with his own. Shocks ran through him as he marveled at the feel and taste of her lips. She was so soft, and so wonderfully sweet. Raoul let his fingertips brush across her swanlike neck as he kissed her slowly at first, wanting to be sure to be gentle and calm. He didn't want to scare her with passionate, heavy kisses.

Meg nearly fainted away when Raoul kissed her. Her heart swelled and jumped for joy within her chest. Hope built up inside of her, and she began to let herself believe they could be together. They could. They really could. Meg smiled against his lips and kissed him a little harder, her hands sliding up over his shoulders. Raoul laughed against her, not ever wanting to pull away from the perfection that was her lips. But they had to, to do a little something called breathing. Both laughed happily though, cheeks flushed from the excitement and the chill of the night air. Between giggles, Meg peppered Raoul's lips with soft kisses, which he gladly took.

She pulled away with a little laugh, and stared into the eyes of the man she had always loved. Seeing him again after all these years had awakened the love she had always had for him. Her small hand moved from his shoulder to rest against his chest, where his heart pounded beneath his clothing. She gasped at the feeling of the steady beat. It was a beautiful feeling that caused her to laugh again. "I do want you, Raoul. I've never stopped...missing you, wanting to be with you." She admitted shyly, her cheeks turning red as she looked down at her hand on his chest.

"Sweet Meg, you needn't be shy!" He laughed, brushing a stray golden curl behind her ear.

"I cannot help it!" She blushed, a soft giggle escaping her. Her laughter faded as she considered the reality of this. Yes, Raoul wanted her just as much as she wanted him. They had known it as children that they would eventually find each other, and finally be together. But Meg knew the reality of it all.

"You have grown sad. What is it, Meg?" He murmured, his hand covering hers as he watched her happy expression fall away.

"If we were to be together...I can only imagine what your family...what everyone would think. It can't be right for a Vicomte to be with a ballerina." She said sadly.

Raoul touched her face, making her meet his eyes yet again. "Meg, I love you. I've loved you since I was fourteen, soaked to the skin just to save your shawl for you. I won't ever stop. I refuse to marry someone my father has handpicked for me, who I will not feel a thing for. But for you, my sweet Meg, I would gladly risk it all for. I would rather have my family disown me and leave me penniless if it meant having you by my side for the rest of eternity."

"I cannot ask you to do that, Raoul." Meg whispered sadly.

Raoul just smiled that boyish smile of his before stealing another kiss from her. As he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers again. "You're not. It's my choice. I refuse to continue on without you in my life. If I could, I'd take you right this moment and marry you, if it meant never parting with you."

"And I would gladly accept in a heartbeat, but Raoul..." She blushed, shaking her head as she pulled her head back.

"I mean it, Meg. I don't want to go through life without you at my side. Please say you feel the same." He gave her fingers a squeeze.

"I do, Raoul." She smiled softly. "I tried not to get my hopes up. I knew we never could be friends. I knew too many people would frown on even that. That's why I never wrote you. I didn't want to cause trouble." Meg bit her lower lip. "I didn't think our friendship would be possible, and I couldn't let myself ever hope for anything more in the future."

"You needn't worry about anyone else, Meg. I'm not going to let anyone stand in the way of this. I love you. I've loved you for all these years and I promise you I don't intend to ever stop." He met her dark gaze, the moonlight coming in through one of the windows making her dark eyes appearing so much darker and larger. "All that matters is if you're happy, if you want to be with me. Are you willing to take this risk with me?"

She smiled, nodding her head slowly.

"Then that's that." He grinned at her, before pulling her in for another kiss. Her hand slowly lifted from his to touch his cheek, to feel over his smooth skin. A little shiver ran through her as her fingertips brushed slightly over his hair. It was silky and soft, and she fought the urge to rake her fingers through it and deepen the kiss. She couldn't help it. After what he had said, she finally wasn't scared anymore. She also would give everything up, if it meant living a life with Raoul. She wanted to lose herself in his lips, to hold him close and never have to let him go. But thankfully he pulled away before her mind became too foggy. Meg blushed a little and bit her lower lip.

"There's still so much I want to learn. I want to know everything about you, Meg." Raoul murmured, his voice breathless.

"Everything?" She chuckled dryly. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Everything." He grinned, unable to help but kiss her once more.

"I want to know everything about you also, Raoul. So many years have passed and so much has happened." She whispered, her lips tingling from his sweet kisses.

"We have the rest of our lives to learn from each other." He promised.

Meg grinned a bright dimpled smile at him and nodded happily. He couldn't help but pull her close and kiss her again. He wished he could kiss her forever, to keep her with him always. It frightened him to know that they would eventually have to leave the stable and go back to the real world. Meg was right to fear his world, the people in his circles. He knew they would not all be kind to her. He knew they would look down upon her and upon him for choosing her. But Raoul was willing to risk it. He would risk it all just to keep her at his side. He would keep her safe from the cruelty his world could bestow on her. He would not let her light be snuffed out by anyone. He would take care of her, and make her happy.

And oh, how she would make him happy! Raoul knew it already.

He reluctantly pulled away from her lips, and a soft laugh escaped him when her lips still yearned for more. She stole another kiss from him, which elicited more laughter from both of them. "I wish we could stay here all night." She laughed.

"I think you would freeze to death." Raoul murmured, pulling his coat around her small frame tightly.

"Nonsense. I have your coat, and not to mention you." She grinned teasingly, and he couldn't help but kiss her on the nose.

"This is true!" He chuckled, adoring the soft laughter that escaped her.

"But I must go, Raoul. They will wonder where I am. Mother will worry about me." Meg sighed, scrunching her nose up unhappily. She forced herself to stand up, to pull herself from his tempting grasp.

Raoul smiled, watching her as she adjusted the small wreath of flowers atop her blonde curls which had been expertly pinned up and out of her face. She glanced at him and giggled as she pulled his coat off of her and held it out to him. Raoul stood and took it and put it back on. There was the slightest scent of flowers, and something else he couldn't name that distracted him. He smiled and looked back to Meg, who was smoothing her fingers over the layers of lace and designs on her costume.

"Come, I do not wish to keep you in this weather dressed like this any longer." He murmured, reaching to take her hand. Before he could slip it through his arm, she threw her arms around him and hugged him close. He didn't hesitate to hold her as close as her costume would allow him to. She clutched him tightly, her head resting on his chest. He smiled and touched the back of her head, keeping her snugly against him. They took this moment to just hold each other, to revel in the fact that they could be together now, that nothing would stop them.

"I love you." She whispered.

"And I love you." He kissed her head, and she pulled back to grin at him. "May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner tonight?" He asked politely.

"I suppose I can be persuaded." Meg giggled teasingly.

\----------------

Meanwhile, Christine had not left her dressing room. From what she had heard from the ballet girls, the Phantom had killed Buquet.

Erik had killed a man.

It didn't seem real. Her Angel of Music, the one she had always longed for, had killed a man.

"You are no Angel, Erik. Not at all." She whispered under her breath, her hands shaking.

As she closed her sky blue eyes, she remembered the night he had whisked her away, when she had learned the truth. His music, his voice, his sad, pleading eyes had seemed to work their way into her soul. She was linked to him. And yet, he had lied to her all these years. Christine very much wished to run away, to leave everything behind and be a whole new person. Not Christine Daae' or Little Lotte with her Angel of Music. Someone else.

She nearly had half a mind to run back to the apartment, pack her things and run away.

But her eyes flew to the large mirror at the other end of the room, where her dark angel had whisked her away only days before. She stood, lifting the heavy skirts of her costume to stare at herself in the mirror. Her chocolate curls had been pinned up on top of her head in preparation for the wig that would need to be worn. She didn't look completely like herself at that moment, but it wasn't what she was looking for.

No, Christine was actually attempting to look through the glass.

Her dainty fingers lifted and brushed along the cold mirror. "I cannot ever leave you, Erik. And you will never leave me." She whispered sadly. "Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to leave you. I want to leave you. I want to run away. I...I need the sunlight...I need warmth and peace. Your cold darkness is...it's so frightening...I don't want it." She closed her eyes and rested her head against the mirror. "But your hold on me is great. I hate you for it. Oh, Erik. How I wish I could be free of you." Christine turned away from the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest. "And yet..." Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted slightly, and she let out a shaky little laugh.

Christine could not form the words that rested on her heart. She felt like her throat was suddenly stuffed with cotton. And what if Madame Giry walked in to hear her whispering her heart's deepest urges? Or worse, someone else. Something had changed the air in the room. She could sense it instantly, like she could when she was a child.

"Yet what, Christine?" A voice rumbled behind her.

She whirled around, tears suddenly in her blue gaze. "How dare you!" She gasped, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "How dare you come in here unannounced, as if you were a rogue!"

"I have never been a gentleman, Christine. Obviously you can see that has never been possible for me by now." He kept his distance, knowing that even if she had not known Buquet was dead by his hands, she still did not want him there.

"What do you want?" She asked, keeping the tears at bay and her voice even.

His gloved hands reached towards her, but she backed away instantly, her breath catching in her throat. "I...I don't..." He stammered, losing the very air of confidence he had held as the Opera Ghost.

"Why did you do it? Why did you kill an innocent man?" She asked shakily.

"My dear Christine, he was no innocent."

"He did not deserve to die! And at your hands, nonetheless! You're a murderer, you've killed a man!" Christine exclaimed. "How could you?"

"I am not an angel, Christine. I never have been."

"But you were! You were my angel. A least, you made me believe you were. And oh, how I believed you were!" Suddenly she crossed the room, and her small fists beat into his chest. He allowed her, though after a moment he grasped her thin wrists in his tight grasp. Even through his gloves, she could feel the chill of his fingertips. "Why...oh why did you let me believe you were my Angel of Music? Are you happy with the hold you now have over me?"

Erik remained silent, unsure of how to even answer the poor girl. He could feel her tremble beneath his grasp, feel her breath through his gloves as she let out ragged sobs. "Christine...forgive me. I only wanted...I only ever wanted you. I wanted to take care of you, to teach you, to mold that instrument you possess to show the world what beauty is! The kind of beauty I shall never have."

"That's all I was? A pretty little thing who you could manipulate and mold into whatever you wanted just for your benefit? It would be you who would receive the praise of my voice. You made my father's story into a twisted tale!" Christine whimpered.

"No, no, my dear Christine, no!" He stammered. "I never meant...I never...I only wanted you to love me. You were a beacon of light in my darkness. You were warm, you were kind, you were everything I could never have in this life. You were everything the world has never allowed me to have. All because of this...this face. All because I am a monster."

Christine turned away from him, her fingers lifting to her lips. She would never be free from him. He loved her, and she was scared her own heart was giving in to the darkness she never wanted. The darkness she always tried to turn away from. Slowly, she turned and looked up at his tall form, at his pleading golden eyes. His gloved hands reached towards her, and like a magnet she stepped forward. He did not touch her, though his hand hovered above her cheek. He quickly dropped his hand back to his side, shaking his head slowly.

"Forgive me, Christine. Please, forgive me. I never meant to let it go on as I had. I should have never done what I did." Erik took a deep breath.

"Does that include killing Buquet?" Christine asked quietly.

The corners of his lips curled upwards, and Christine shivered. "It was the only action I have done thus far that wasn't for your benefit, but for my own. The old man has told many a tale about me, many lies. He knew too much, and he overstepped his boundaries in my theater too often."

"Meg has told her fair share of stories too. And yet I assume she's still alive." Christine knew Erik would never harm Meg. But it still made his excuse stupid. If he killed Buquet for telling stories, shouldn't he have killed Meg too? Shouldn't he have really killed all the ballet girls?

"You know I would never harm her. I would never bring that kind of sadness upon you or Madame Giry. Meg has great talent. I have promised Giry she would be successful, and I am making it so she will be. The girl has merely spread ghost stories around. She has made the Opera Ghost real." Erik chuckled. "Buquet was a lecherous creature, and I was tired of him."

"Was it so easy for you?" Christine asked shakily, unsure if she would like the answer. Erik hesitated, and looked away, unable to meet Christine's blue stare. His avoidance of her answered her question. So this was not his first kill. He had killed before. "I'm not going to pretend to understand, E-Erik. Because I don't." She whispered, moving away from him to lower herself on the stool in front of her vanity.

"I would never want you to understand this, Christine." Erik sighed.

Christine fingered the rose he had left for her the night of Hannibal, where it still rested from that fateful night. It was a shock La Carlotta had left it there when she had taken the dressing room back. Perhaps the diva thought it was just one from her many admirers. Nonetheless, Christine was glad it was still there. "So what happens now?" She whispered.

"I could continue to teach you, if you'd like. I could take you away from the opera house, I could train you still." Erik suggested.

"Oh yes, and where would we go? I suppose the Opera Ghost has a winter retreat in a cave somewhere?" Christine sighed. When she looked up at him, she noticed the wounded expression in his eyes. "You must forgive me, please. I only meant..."

"I understand what you think of me, Christine. I'm a monster, I'm not capable of being anywhere else but in darkness." He turned away towards the mirror, and Christine jumped to her feet. She hurried towards him and grabbed his arm in a gesture that surprised both of them. She curled her fingers in his black coat, taking in a deep breath.

"Please, you know that is not what I mean." Christine held onto his arm tighter. "You may not be an angel, but you know me. You have known me since I was a girl. You know I do not...I do not think of you as a monster."

Erik turned slowly and studied the brunette, the determined look in her big blue eyes. "Then why...why did you remove my mask? Why did you recoil from me...as though I were a monster? I never...I never thought you would look at me as...as they did." His hand lifted to his mask, and Christine fought against the tears that burned in her eyes.

"Forgive me for that. I was frightened by your anger. I had woken from a dream, to find you. I always thought you hid yourself from me because you were too beautiful for this world. I did not...I never thought..." Christine sucked in a deep breath, her other hand coming to touch his mask. He tensed up, but she merely brushed her fingertips along the cool leather. He touched her hand, actually frightened that she would tear the mask off again. That she would cry and whimper in terror like she had before. Erik could not take the horror in her eyes again. He could not live through that. "Though your face...is truly terrible...perhaps I can see past it."

"How?" He asked quietly.

"I'm not sure. But maybe I can learn."

"You would be willing to do that?"

"If you'd let me." Christine managed the softest of smiles. "I'm not going to lie to you, Erik. The darkness is not for me. I cannot go into the darkness again. I cannot. I wanted to run away only moments ago. I had half a mind to run back to the apartment and jump a boat or a train anywhere but here. But even if I left, even if I went away from this place and you...you would never truly leave me. You'd always be there..." Her voice dropped. "Singing songs in my head." She moved her gaze to her fingers on his mask.

"I wish I could give you a normal life." Erik sighed. "I wish I was a normal man, with a normal face, that could have wooed you like a gentleman. Not because of a lie." Erik whispered.

"There's still time for that. Let us let the music come first." She smiled softly, her fingertips still brushing along his mask. "Perhaps there is a normal man inside of you, beneath all the secrets."

"I do hope you're right, Christine." Erik murmured, slowly taking her hand away from his mask. Curious little girl was making him nervous.

"No more lies." She lifted her eyebrows, indicating that she meant business.

"Whatever you wish." The slightest of smiles quirked his lips upwards. Perhaps one day she would learn to love him. Perhaps she could be the sunlight in his dark world.

\---------------

The opera was back on in full swing when Raoul returned Meg backstage. Madame Giry noticed the bright smiles on both of their faces when she came upon them in the hallway. She also caught them just as the Vicomte kissed her daughter. Madame Giry would have snapped at them, but Meg's joyous laughter and the Vicomte's warm smile was too beautiful to disturb. It was good for Meg to be so happy. Madame Giry just hoped her daughter knew what she was risking, being with the Vicomte. She would not ruin things for her daughter, though. The girl was smart, and had a good head on her shoulders. She knew the truth of the world he lived in. The girl had always reminded her mother of that anytime the older woman would encourage the girls to write to the young Vicomte.

Meg felt a familiar stare in her direction and quickly looked over and noticed her mother watching. She laughed and blushed a deep shade of red before pressing her hands into Raoul's arms, encouraging him to take his seat. She would see him after the opera. Meg had a job to do. He let go of her, but not before stealing another quick kiss from her. Meg just laughed again before she hurried over to her mother, practically glowing as her mother hugged her daughter close.

"I'm glad you're safe." Madame Giry chuckled.

"More than safe." Meg giggled, pulling back to give her mother an excited smile. Madame Giry just smiled knowingly, before gesturing to the stage.

"Elena filled in for you as the maid. I do hope you're ready to dance in act three again." Madame Giry adjusted her daughter's wreath, slipping a loose curl behind her ear.

"I'm ready." Meg smiled.

Madame Giry wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders as they watched the rest of the opera. Christine was playing the Countess, and she shone. Her voice rang out clearly, in that happy bouncy way the opera required. The audience seemed at ease now that things had calmed down. The opera continued on without any other troubles. Meg got to complete her leading dance in the ballet of Act 3, and without any flaw at all. She could tell that some of the other girls were a little antsy and nervous. Hopefully it wasn't too obvious to everyone else.

Afterwards, the entire cast came out for their bows. Christine had a huge smile on her face, her bows low and full of gratitude. Her bright blue eyes scanned the ceiling, and she hoped Erik approved. The audience seemed to have forgotten all about the death of Buquet and the Opera Ghost's antics and roared with applause.

Meg hurried to Christine's dressing room, hoping to change with her best friend and speak to her before she went to dinner with Raoul. When she got there, her mother was exiting the room. As Meg got closer, she realized the expression on her mother's face was unreadable, as usual.

But was that fear in her emerald eyes?

"Mama, what's wrong?" Meg asked softly, furrowing her eyebrows.

Madame Giry stared at her little daughter, remembering the laughter and the smiles that had been on her face only an hour before. She didn't want to worry her about the things Christine was planning on doing. Meg would be shocked.

"Nothing, my dear. Christine just needs some time alone to change." The older woman smiled at Meg. "I do suppose your Vicomte is whisking you away for dinner, yes?"

Meg blushed, nodding slowly. "Well...yes. How did you-"

"Mother's intuition. I was young once too, you know. You needn't worry about Christine. I will take her home and the Vicomte can bring you home as soon as you finish your meal."

"Tell her to wait up for me, so we can speak. Please?" Meg asked hopefully.

Madame Giry sighed, nodding slowly. "Of course, Meg. Come now, it's time to get you changed out of this costume."

\-----------

Madame Giry found a dress for Meg to wear that was much nicer than the one she had brought for the short walk home. It was a deep shade of green with intricate little lace designs and tiny flowers sewn into the fabric. It was soft and warm and beautiful. After undoing her golden curls, Madame Giry pinned a few stray pieces out of Meg's face with little clips in the shapes of flowers.

The older woman didn't quite know how she felt about her daughter having a suitor. Of course it would happen. Meg was beautiful and getting older. Of course the girl had boys after her, but nothing quite as genuine as this. Or at least so it seemed. Madame Giry certainly hoped the young Vicomte had proper intentions towards her daughter. She just wanted to know her daughter would be taken care of, and most importantly, happy. If Meg ever decided to leave the ballet to pursue a life with Raoul, Madame Giry would allow it. She always wanted so much more for her daughter than what she could give her, but of course, dear Meg had never complained. Nor did Christine.

Raoul hurried as fast as he could to Meg. Philippe had been rather uneasy about the rest of the evening, especially when his younger brother had run out of the box just before the stagehand had died. Something about the entire situation seemed odd to Philippe. Had the stagehand's death really been an accident? Or did it have to do with the 'Phantom' character everyone had been whispering about?

This was why Philippe didn't like the theater. Too much drama.

When Raoul returned, he had been so very happy and excited about something. Dinner with his little ballet girl, it seemed. Philippe would allow him his fun for now. But the next morning, he would have to give his brother a talk. He knew it would be much kinder than their father could give. But it needed to be done before it was too late.

Raoul escorted Meg to dinner to one of his favorite restaurants near the Seine river. It was beautiful and much nicer than anywhere Meg had ever been. But neither seemed to notice the looks and whispers they received when they walked in. They had each other, and that was what mattered. They were so distracted by each other, they didn't notice anyone else at all.

They spent dinner laughing and learning about each other. They spoke of the time they had been apart, tuning out everything else around them and focusing on each other. Meg didn't have a chance to be nervous, and the conversation never lagged. Raoul made her feel comfortable, and at ease. He made everything seem so much easier, like nothing could ever be wrong. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they could just be happy with each other and completely ignore everyone else. It so far seemed to work just fine.

On the carriage ride home, Meg had her head resting on Raoul's shoulder, her small hand looped through his arm. Raoul liked how comfortable she was. She wasn't nervous or jumpy like she had been when they had first seen each other again. He liked how easily she leaned against him, how her little fingers moved over his arm in slow motions.

He had told his driver to take a longer drive to her apartment, just so he could have more time with her. They didn't even need to talk, like they were now. He adored her company. He simply adored her. Raoul didn't want to say goodbye, even if only for the night. Things just seemed so easy between them. Everything felt so natural, like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

Eventually the carriage came to a stop outside the boarding house. Raoul reluctantly helped Meg out, and the two laughed when they realized a light dusting of snow was beginning to fall. Raoul watched Meg's face instantly brighten, the way she laughed in happiness and squeezed his gloved hand.

"Isn't it lovely?" She giggled, tilting her head back to stare up at the white flakes. Raoul grinned, watching her in adoration as she happily watched the snow fall. Little perfect snowflakes began to cling to her golden curls, and as happy as she seemed out there, he could see how she clutched her cloak around her small frame tightly with her free hand. He swore he could even hear her teeth chattering.

Raoul gathered Meg into his arms, gently moving his hands over her back to help keep her warm. She instantly melted against him, a soft sigh tickling his neck. He kissed her head and closed his eyes, memorizing the way she felt all wrapped up in his arms.

So this was love. So this was happiness. It didn't seem real. It seemed like a dream they would wake up from.

Meg lifted her head and Raoul looked down at her with a sweet smile. Using her hands on his arms as leverage, she rose up easily onto her tiptoes and kissed him. He kept a good hold on her, curling her into him as he leaned down slightly so she wouldn't have to balance too badly.

Meg decided kissing him would never grow old. She would never tire of the sweet taste of his mouth, the warm, soft feeling of his lips. She would never tire of the explosion of butterflies within her stomach at each simple movement their lips made. She couldn't believe the night they had had. She couldn't believe all of this was real, that he had waited for her, that he loved her! Her fingers tightened on his arms at the thought.

Raoul also realized each kiss from Meg seemed brand new. He decided he was a drowning man, and only her sweet lips could ever give him the breath of life that would save him. Meg didn't realize it, but she had saved him in many more ways than he had ever saved her. She saved him from a miserable life without love, without sunlight in his life. He had been saved from the misery of wondering where she was, what she was doing, if she was happy with someone else. Raoul kissed her a little harder at the thought. He never liked wondering those things in the past years, and now he didn't want to. Not when it wasn't necessary any longer. She was there, she was willingly there in his arms, and she loved him.

Meg smiled as she pulled away, their noses brushing together in a lazy motion. "I've had a wonderful time tonight, Raoul." She whispered, lifting one hand to brush over his soft hair. A soft giggle escaped her as she felt little snowflakes melt in his silky hair beneath her touch.

"It's all been a dream come true." Raoul whispered, deciding her fingers in his hair was the most perfect thing in the world. "I fear letting you go, and waking from this dream to find it not real at all."

Without any warning, Meg dropped her hand from his hair and pinched the skin of his wrist. He lifted his head in surprise, and she grinned at him. "Did you feel that?" When he nodded, she leaned up and kissed him again. As she pulled away, Meg brushed her fingers over the area she had pinched. "It's no dream, my dear Raoul. I promise."

Raoul laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. He picked her up off the ground and spun her around, and the two giggled and smiled happily. When he set her back on her feet, he gave her another kiss to her cold lips. Raoul pulled away slowly, and pulled the hood of her cloak over her curls. "You must get inside now, my sweet Meg. Now that I've finally found you, I don't want you to become an icicle." He murmured teasingly.

Meg smiled and nodded, her hands sliding down his arms. They reluctantly released each other after sharing one last kiss. "Goodnight, my dear Raoul."

"Goodnight, my sweet Meg. I love you." Raoul grinned, and kissed her forehead before she turned away and headed towards the door. Raoul watched her walk up the steps, and when she turned to smile at him, he blew her another kiss. Meg grinned and blew him one back before slipping inside.

Raoul sighed dreamily, unable to believe the night he had just had. He turned towards his carriage and climbed up inside, but not before glancing back at the old house. A light flickered on in one of the windows, and he smiled when Meg appeared in the window. She opened it and leaned out, waving her small hand wildly in the air. "I love you too!" She called out before closing the window with a giggle and adjusting the curtains.

Raoul grinned and climbed into his carriage, feeling like his heart could burst. The entire ride home, he thought over the entire evening, remembering little things Meg had said or done that had made him want to curl her up in his arms and keep her with him forever.

When he got home, he realized he was humming, and the smile had not left his face since he had dropped Meg at home. Raoul headed inside quietly, knowing his family must have all gone to bed. As he left his coat, gloves and scarf with a housemaid and headed upstairs, he passed his father's study. The Comte was inside, a glass of whiskey beside a stack of papers he was sorting. Before Raoul could sneak past him to his bedroom down the hall, his father shot his head up.

"Raoul, come sit down. We need to talk."


End file.
